Chuck vs Living on Borrowed Time
by JRLai
Summary: 16 years after the finale, Chuck has the life he's always wanted. But the past has come back to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chuck.

**CHUCK VS. LIVING ON BORROWED TIME**

"Wha-what did I do?" Chuck stammers feebly. The cold kitchen floor is hard and unwelcoming as he cowers against the kitchen cabinets. Curling his legs up against his body, he shields his face from the gun that is being waved at him.

"You've hid it somewhere! Where is it? Where?" Spittle sprinkles Chuck's face as the menacing foe towers over his fetal form. A minion giggles crazily from behind the armed attacker. Wincing as he sees how erratic the primary assailant is acting, armed with a deadly object, he rushes to deny.

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You know what I'm talking about, now ANSWER me!" The weapon is fired.

"NOOO!" Chuck watches the gush of ice cold water fly directly at his face. He scrunches his eyes shut as he feels the chill seep through to his bones, water gripping his short hair, sopping his dress shirt and blazer, and splashing onto surrounding surfaces. He deeply regrets not changing from his formal attire immediately upon arriving home. But how was he to know he'd be ambushed by his demon children. He hastily wipes the water out of his eyes, and springs forward. His 10 year old son gives a shriek of laughter as Chuck makes a grab for his lethal water gun. It goes flying as Stephen accidently flings it across the room in effort to avoid Chuck's outstretched hands.

"C'mere you!" Chuck latches onto his arm and wrestles the boy into a bear hug on the ground. His son can't stifle his laughter as he tries to sound angry.

"DAA-AAD! NOO!" The cold bite of ice water stings Chuck once again and he loses his breath. Emma, Stephen's twin sister/evil minion has acquired the lethal weapon. Chuck tries to spit the water from his mouth. He feels Stephen break his hold.

"Give up your secrets, old man!" Emma commands.

"UNCLE, UNCLE!' Still lying on the floor, Chuck tries to deflect the water with his hands, with little success.

"Tell us what you know first!" Stephen hollers.

"I'd RATHER DIE!" He feels the water start to wane, their gun running dry. An evil smirk of revenge graces Chuck's face. He's off the floor and has swiped the gun from Emma's small hands before she can react.

"ENOUGH! I have your weapon, and thus I have won this battle!" Chuck throws his fist with the gun into the air. Although relishing in the feeling of victory, he doesn't miss the distinct sound of a key in the front door. Sarah. He has to think fast. "Now, you've… you've soaked my work clothes and.. and flooded the kitchen, you evil, evil, terrible, misbehaved children.. and-and punish you greatly I will!" He shouts loudly, directing his voice over their heads and at the front door. His children look at him bemused, before whipping their head to the front door as it swings open. A suspicious Sarah Bartowski walks over the threshold. She stops in her tracks and surveys the scene. Chuck quickly assumes an angry body position, and looks down at his children. He tries to catch their eyes. _You're taking the fall for this one._ After all, all he did was defend himself and stop the assault on the kitchen. _I'm the hero here._ He just hopes Sarah sees it that way too. Chuck chances a look back at his wife. _Oh man._

"COME ON CHUCK!" _Oh crap._

"Wha-what did I do?" Repeating himself from five minutes ago, only this time he's genuinely afraid.

"How could you let this happen? Everything is sopping wet!" She approaches the kitchen on high heels and a business suit, her heels clicking on the tile. Stephen and Emma avoid her gaze. Chuck's mouth flaps like a fish, searching for a good response.

"They... they started it." He points at his children with the water gun. _Eep! _He quickly puts the gun behind his back. _Wait, it's not my incriminating evidence to hide._ He tosses the gun to his children's feet. Emma stifles a giggle. Sarah looks at Chuck with an arched eyebrow.

"But it's your job to stop it." She continues after Chuck's mini performance. She turns to Emma and Stephen. "You guys aren't little anymore, go get the old towels and clean up your mess. " Emma and Stephen mutter quick apologies to their mother and leave the kitchen as quick as they can. "Oh Chuck look at your nice suit!" What the hell happened? You left work five minutes before I did, and this is the mess I come home to?"

"Now why do you assume the mess only came to be, upon my arrival? The kids have half an hour between getting home from school and us getting home from work. They could have made it in that amount of time, and I just discovered it as innocent as-"

"Chuck, you **are** the mess." Chuck takes a breath and lifts up his finger, about argue his point. He stands like that for several seconds. Exhaling he lowers his hand and head.

"Sorry honey, I should've stopped them… "

"And…" She taps her foot.

"And… I shouldn't have encouraged them..." Sarah smiles a satisfied smile. Leaning up, she kisses Chuck on the cheek and whispers in his ear,

"Forgiven. It helps that you're cute with wet hair." Chuck gasps, feigning offense.

"I am cute all the time, thank you very much." Sarah chuckles and wraps her arms around his neck, Chuck responds with his arms around her back. He'll never get tired of looking into the blue eyes of his wife of 17 years. Intersects, death defying spy missions, memory loss, a small business and three kids later, the couple was still very much in-

"Would you guys _please_ stop making out in the kitchen. We like, eat in here." Stephen said loudly as he stomped by them with a stack of towels. Sarah lightly clipped his head without glancing away from Chuck.

* * *

><p>After the kitchen had been dried, business attire changed, and dinner made and devoured, Chuck, Sarah, Emma and Stephen sat bunched together on the couch, enjoying Friday night movie night. With an arm around Sarah and his other hand in the popcorn bowl, Chuck would be very much at peace. Except that there was a missing Bartowski from movie night, 14 year old Sam, his first born angel. She was currently attending a house party hosted by a friend of a friend of a friend of hers. It was not something Chuck was very happy about, but he had consented, not wanting to be a dictator father. He knew she would be safe.<p>

The end credits rolled. Everyone but himself was asleep.

"Wow, what a fascinating movie," he chuckled to himself. Cracking his neck and stretching his limbs, he started the task of bedtime. Gently slipping his arms under Emma, who gave a small snort, he hoisted her up and took up to her bedroom. After being gently laid in her bed, he placed a kiss on her forehead and tucked the sheets under her chin.

"Night, night Em." He turned off the lights and closed the door. Next up: Stephen. "C'mon buddy boy." He said to his slumbering son. Stephen groaned loudly and tried to ignore him, but eventually let Chuck lead him up to his bed by the hand. As Stephen often made a point of telling Chuck _"Dudes don't get carried to bed __**Daa-ad!**__" _Climbing into bed, he got tucked to the chin, and a kiss on the forehead.

"Sleep tight, Stevie."

No one said you couldn't carry your wife to bed, however. Chuck slipped his arms around Sarah and was in the middle of carrying her up the stairs when she stirred.

"…Chuck? Yoocarryingmeumstairs?" He had to think through the nonsense she muttered before responding.

"Mm-hm."

"Das nice," she said contently and nuzzled her head into his chest. He smiled his famous Charles Bartowski smile.

* * *

><p>Chuck paced from one end of the wall to the next, arms crossed, drumming his fingers against his forearm. <em>Where was she? God damn, fourteen is <em>_**way**__ to young for hanky panky! Jesus Chuck, why did your brain go there? Have some faith in your daughter. I mean she is __**your**__ daughter, with a good head on her shoulders. You trust her. That's why you let her go to this friken party tonight. Well if you trust her, why are you digging trenches in your living room with your pacing? Because you're worried, not because you don't trust her to say no to hanky panky and drugs. OH GOOD LORD THE DRUGS! Did you remind her to not accept ANY drinks from someone she doesn't know? STOP THIS TRAIN OF THOUGHT CHUCK, you know she knows to not do drugs and alcohol…. ALCHOHOL! DID I STRESS ENOUGH THAT SHE'S UNDER DRINKING AGE! No she knows! Of course she knows. Where is she? Oh man, why did she decide to take the bus? I offered to drive her, I should have put my foot down… What if she missed the bus? No no no she has a cellphone, she texts me and Sarah all the time, she knows how to reach us if she missed the bus. WHAT IF HER battery runs out? WHAT IF THE BUS DRIVER IS DRUNK? That would be terrible, he should be fired! Why would I allow her onto a drunk bus driver's bus? What kind of father does that? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I AM A TERRIBLE FATH-_

"Chuck?"

"EEEEE!" Chuck gave a girly shriek of shock. Sarah was standing at the top of the stairs, wearing one of Chuck's t-shirts as a nightgown. "Oh he-hey there honey! Whatchya doin' up you? I'm, uh, I'm just down here, um.. getting a snack! Yeah!" Chuck made an absurd dash to the kitchen, and returned with a chip bag. "See, yea see, just getting some junk food! Cause I'm hungry and-"

"**Chuck!**" Sarah said, in an effort to silence him.

"Yeeeah?"

"Sam will be home when she said she would be home. I trust her, so should you." Sarah wasn't going to be fooled by her anxious, chip munching husband. "Come back to bed.

"No, she-she should be home soon, I'm gonna stay up 'till she gets in."

"Oh Chuck. I don't think you should expect her to be home an hour early." Sarah sighs. Chuck casts a quick glance at the Governor. _11:31pm_.

"Well what kind of party do these kids have that lasts to 12:30 in the morning?" Chuck asks, exasperated, flopping onto the couch. Sarah padded down the stairs in her fluffy blue slippers, (an old birthday present from Chuck) mirroring him, flopped onto the couch beside him. She sighed, rested her head on his shoulder, and was soon on the precipice of sleep.

"… a fun party." She answers. It went unheard. Chuck was softly snoring.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck.

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><p>Sam tries her best to open front door quietly, she wants to avoid waking the house up. The lights are off. She checks the time. <em>12:37am. <em>She silently curses. Seven minutes late. She slips off her shoes and places them by the front door. Now she just has to tip toe upstairs. One foot in front of the other…

"YEARHG!" Sam pitches forward onto the ground, having tripped on someone's outstretched leg, that was extending from the couch._ How did she not see him?_ She catches herself on her hands. A tall shadow looms over her.

"Sam?" Her father says drowsily. Chuck hurries to help Sam. Once standing in the upright position, Sam flashes a guilty grin at her father.

"Heeeeey Dad… I'm home. You stayed up, that's… great." She might have half of a beer. _Only half!_

"Sammy, I've been going out of my mind! Look at the time! Why didn't you call? You shoud've called!" Chuck stars pacing in front of Sam. "Was it the bus driver, did he give you trouble? UGH, I hate irresponsible bus drivers! I bet he was intoxicated! Or stoned, or… or just a bad driver. But anyway-" He turns and starts examining Sam. "Are you okay, you doing okay? I am so relieved that you got home safe, oh I thought I was going to have to go looking-"

"Dad."

"- for you and I wasn't going to find you. Oh my god, it would have been terrible. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think-"

"Weren't you asleep on the couch?" Chuck pauses in his stream of words.

"Yes, but that doesn't count." Sam shakes her head, bemused. She leans up on the tip of her toes, and places a kiss on his cheek.

"Love ya," she smiles. She turns towards the stairs and starts off. Her heart sinks when she hears her father say in a voice unlike his own.

"Wait Sam." Sam knew she had been found out. She was in deep trouble. She slowly turned towards him, her eyes cast down. She dared quick glance at him. He was standing very still, his brow low, his arms crossed.

"Why… why do I smell alcohol on your breath?" He said with hesitation, not wanting to believe his daughter would betray his trust. His eyes search hers, seeking the truth.

"Uhm…"

"I didn't catch that, Sam." Sam cleared her throat and lifted eyes to his.

"I might have had, maybe um, a beer, **half**, half a beer…" She heard him exhale loudly; apparently he had been holding his breath. He hung his head and his arm muscles clenched. She winced. Chuck never lost his temper. That was Mom's job. But right now, Sam was afraid of the look of disappointment and anger playing across Chuck's face. His voice was calm when he spoke,

"I said no booze. You. Are. Four. Teen. You are **undera-**"

"I'm not drunk!, I made it home fine and-"

"I don't care!" His arms uncross, and he's waves them emphatically. "I don't care that you're not drunk! What, do you want me to applaud you! **Oh good for you Sam, you didn't come home pissed!** I said no drinking!" Chuck said losing his control.

"Chuck?" Her Mom raises her head from the couch. Chuck had woken her up. Sam was startled by her. _They both stayed up to wait? They didn't trust me at all!_

"What Mom's down here too? What is the matter with you guys?" Sam asked. She was home on time and she was sober, she didn't deserve the death glares her Dad was sending her.

"What's going on, is Sam okay?" Sarah asked, sounding half asleep.

"Oh my god yes! I'm home, I'm fine and I am going to bed!" Sam announces, she turned her back on them and took the stairs, two steps at a time. Chuck shouts after her, but she ignores him.

* * *

><p>The car was excruciatingly hot in the California afternoon sun. Chuck readjusts his suit blazer that he was sweating though. Sitting in a hot car in the middle of traffic on a Saturday afternoon was not fun. He was definitely getting a headache. He was on the highway home after a meeting with a potential client. This client needed an advanced cyber security system to protect his company from hackers. It was a big job, but Chuck knew it was doable. No, that's not what was making Chuck anxiously drum his finger on the steering wheel. He had left early to meet this client, with only a quick goodbye and kiss on the cheek for Sarah, so he had not spoken to Sam, as she was asleep. He hated having an unresolved fight with someone, let alone his daughter. Arguments should never simmer.<p>

He looked into the rear-view mirror and rubbed his four o'clock shadow. His short trimmed hair lacked its normal bounce, and his eyes had dark bags. He had not been sleeping well for almost a month. He took a swig of coffee from the travel mug Sarah had sent with him. He splutters, surprised. _Irish coffee? Bless her heart._ Sighing, he thinks about the conversation he had with Sarah after Sam had stormed off.

* * *

><p>"Chuck, what the-" Sarah starts, very confused. She gets off the couch and approaches him.<p>

"She's been drinking!" He says in a defeated tone. He turned to her. "I told her not to? Why wouldn't she listen?" He clasped his hands over his head.

"Chuck," Sarah wrapped her arms around his torso. "Everyone has their first drink sometime..." His eyes snapped to hers.

"You think I'm overreacting?" he groaned

"Well… no, not exactly. I don't know…" Sarah paused, and chose her words carefully. "You're the kind of Dad who's always going to want his kids to be kids."

"No, I just want her to use her head and consume age appropriate beverages!" He still looks troubled as Sarah takes his hand and leads him upstairs. Sarah chuckles.

"Hey, she came home on time, she's seems sober… Let's just remind her in the morning, to use common sense with alcohol and that she's still too young." Chuck was silent. Sarah searched his eyes for his response. He took a breath.

"She was seven minutes late." He amended. Sarah smiled, opened the master bedroom door, and pulled Chuck inside with her.

* * *

><p>He returns to drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Traffic starts to move and the car in front of him pulls forward. He presses on the acceleration when a car from the lane to his left swerves in front of him. His heart leaps into his mouth and he slams down on the brake. It wasn't enough. His mini-van gently bumps the pick-up truck's bumper. The truck's brake lights flashed and horn blared. It came to a tire screeching stop a few meters ahead of Chuck. <em>Must be a bus driver!<em>

The driver stepped out. If one word could be used to describe the truck owner, it would be: cliché. He had a black leather jacket and black jeans, underneath he wore a white t-shirt emblazed with a red skull. Chuckle stifles his giggle. _A bus driver could dress better._ Mr. Cliché had a shaved head, and untrimmed facial hair. A red bandana tied up the whole package.

It was at that moment that his iphone starting playing the classic Batman theme. It was Ellie. _Should I take it? Right before this guy has a fit? It would give me an excuse not to talk to him…_

_Na-na-na-na-na-na-_

"This is Charles." He answered all the while watching Mr. Cliché inspect his trucks bumper damage. He didn't look very happy.

"Hey Chuck, it's me. Are you guys on for game night?" Mr. Cliché had started stomping, the only word that could be used to describe his gait, towards Chuck's car.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, El-" Mr. Cliché had arrived at his car. Chuck waved and grinned at him before rolling down his window. "I'm gonna have to go soon El-."

The punch hit before he saw him make a fist.

The breath rushed from his lungs and stars burst in front of eyes, as waves of pain radiate from the side of his face. Chuck slumps over onto the passenger's side, his phone long forgotten. Blood pools in his mouth. He spat a wad onto the car carpet.

"WHAT THE HELL MAN?" Chuck yells. Mr. Violent Cliché ignores him and reaches his hand through the window, unlocks the door and swings it wide open. His meaty hand grabs onto Chuck's leg and drags him out of the car, and onto the ground, as easily as if he was dragging a big pillow. A kick in the stomach came next. It hurt more than the punch. Chuck struggles to breathe as Mr. Violent Cliché hoists him up by the scruff of his shirt collar.

That's when the flash hit. Now that was pain. Real pain. "Someone put an axe into my brain" pain. Despite the overwhelming urge to vomit in Mr. Violent Cliché's face, he plays out the Intersects's defense instructions to a tee, and Mr. Violent Cliché was out cold in a matter of seconds. Chuck collapses to his knees, grasping at his head.

His brain was screaming, his lungs were on fire and his hear was stinging. _What's going on?_ He'd never felt like this after a flash. Granted he'd not flashed in nearly four years, let alone carry out said flashes. He falls to the ground and vomits, wincing as it splatters on the pavement. _Oh god I need help. _He was in the middle of a major Los Angelo's highway suffering some sort of breakdown. People were stopping in their cars, some just to stare. _Phone_. He tries to stand; his chest twinges painfully and his left arm has shooting pain. It didn't take having a Cardiac surgeon as a brother in-law for him to know that he was having a heart attack. The world is tilting and the light is waning in and out. He swears as loud as he can with a dwindling supply of air, and stumbles closer to his car. He retches to the side, before trying to climb into his car. He's too weak. _Phone. _He spots it lying on the floor by the driver's seat. He stretches his arm, almost able to reach. His lungs burn again as he tries to gasp for air, and his head feels like its exploding. His fingers brush the phone and he manages to get a hold of it.

"CHUCK!" Ellie screams out of the device. She hasn't hung up? It feels like it's been years since he dropped the phone.

"Ellie... help." Chuck wheezes out. "… Highway… dying." Chuck feels his legs give out, and he finds himself lying on his back, his legs folded beneath him, his arms sprawling, on a highway. His phone falls from his grasp, and his world goes black.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Does anyone want to be a Beta reader for me? I'm not promising punctuality.

JR Lai


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck. *I don't own Cranium.

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><p>Sarah Walker Bartowski was exhausted. It was a nice warm Saturday afternoon, and she was enjoying some peace and quiet on her deck. It was well deserved rest, she thought, after making breakfast for her, as Chuck calls them, "Demon Children", sorting the twins constant arguing, having a heart to heart with Sam, <strong>and<strong> locating all the pieces to their Cranium* board game. It was game night at the Woodcombs and since it was Ellie and Awesome's turn to host, it was the Bartowski's turn to bring the games. She sipped a glass of ice tea she had made from scratch. Yes, she deserved to relax now, she reaffirmed with herself.

She picked up her phone and reviewed her texts. She smiled as she reread her most recent conversations with Chuck.

8:36am Chuck "_Hey sry again abt having to leave early. Luv u."_

9:17am Sarah _"Just got kids up. Brkfast time. Pancakes. U2"_

9:20am Chuck _"Yum. Oh you're jamming to U2? "_

9:21am Sarah _"That's a terrible joke :P"_

9:21am Chuck _"Nt if it made you . Which I knw it did."_

He's right, it did make her smile. She scrolls up to the next series of texts.

1:47pm Chuck _"Just got out of meet. Ug super long."_

1:49pm Sarah _"Lots of money? $$"_

1:50pm Chuck _"Always about the dough, eh?"_

1:52pm Sarah _"Only reason I married u. xoxo"_

1:53pm Chuck _":'( heading onto road now 3"_

Sarah checked the time. _2:40pm. _Chuck would be home soon. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and sighed, leaning back on the lounge chair. She should definitely make more time to sit out here. Crossing her arms in a relaxed way, she feels something slimy on her upper arm. _Oops, didn't get all the batter off._ After 14 years of cooking for her children, she was still somehow a rookie in the kitchen. She'd be more concerned, but Chuck quiet enjoyed cooking for the kids, so it was easy to leave it to him. It was handy that Chuck's taste in food matched up perfectly with all three of them. The kitchen was always disaster after she cooked anyway, so everyone agreed she should try and stay away from it. She remembered the debacle she had in the kitchen, this morning.

* * *

><p>"Mom, I can't find a towel!" Stephen shouted from their upstairs bathroom. He was taking his mandatory morning shower, following Emma. Sarah rolled her eyes. The pancake batter was all over her hands after she tried to scoop out the eggs shells she had accidently shattered into the bowl. She did not have Chuck's delicate touch. <em>I really don't know my own strength. <em>Afterrunning her hands under the cold water, and wiping away the gross goop, she hollered back.

"You know where the towels are. They're where they always are."

"NO THEY'RE NOT! Emma has a towel, but she won't give it to me." Sarah heard Emma give a shriek, followed by a thump.

"OW! That hurt Em!"

Sarah groaned out loud in frustration. Now they're going to start the roughhousing. Casting a weary glance at the pancakes she had just set on the griddle, she sprinted upstairs to put an end to the fight. On the way to the twin's shared bedroom, she stopped to rap loudly on Sam's door.

"Get up Sam, I have to sort out your brother and sister! There's pancakes on the griddle, go watch them!" She received a groan in response. She continued down the hall pushed open the ajar door. Stephen's head was completely covered by the towel, while Emma stood behind him holding it in place. He was frantically flailing his hands around behind him, trying in vain to hit his target. Emma had clearly already won the fight. _She always does._

"OKAY ENOUGH." Emma immediately dropped the towel and took a step back. Stephen fell over backwards. Sarah stormed up and whipped the towel off his head, pulled him up and held the towel out. "You ask nicely for other people's things, Stephen. Now shower." He quickly took it and sulked off. "Emma, why would you just let him have the da-" she caught herself before she swore. "-dang, the dang towel."

"Because I had it first." Emma replies calmly, she thought it was a perfectly valid argument.

"You're dressed and dry; were you still using it?"

"No. But I-" Sarah held up a hand.

"You share, especially if you have something you don't need, that someone else does. Having it first is not an excuse. Come for breakfast." Sarah turned and left, closing the twin's bedroom door.

The unpleasant smell of burnt food greeted her. She did swear this time. Loudly.

"SAAAAM!"

She raced past her older daughter's bedroom . The door flung open and a bedheaded teenager staggered out.

"Whaterya screamin' bout?"

"PAAAANCAAAKES!" Sarah yelled, as her feet touched the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She skidded to a halt in the kitchen. And she swore again. Smoke was issuing out from under the pancakes at an alarming rate. She flipped them onto their completely uncooked side and again, swore. They cooked side of the pancake was as black as coal. After throwing open the kitchen window she grabbed a kitchen towel and started venting the smoke out.

"Wow, sometimes Daddy's are brown but, wow look at that!" Emma had made her way into the kitchen, pinching her nose closed to avoid the smell. Sarah growled.

"SAM, why didn't you watch the pancakes?" She asked as she wandered in, looking very confused.

"…how was I supposed to do that? I was… asleep?"

"Hey I remember why we have no towels! We used them to dry the kitchen!" Stephen said brightly as he took a seat at the breakfast bar. He was acting as if his mother standing over burnt food, looking very haggard was nothing unusual. "Remember Em?" Emma jumped up to the chair beside him and laughed.

"Yeah, and Daddy probably used a lot too."

Sarah grumbled and served them their pancakes.

* * *

><p>Sarah was surprised when they had eaten them as fast as they eat Chuck's beautiful pancakes. Maybe it had more to do with her adding twice the syrup; she did to make up for the terrible pancakes. She took a long gulp from her ice tea. It was very refreshing. <em>I least I didn't burn this.<em> She sighed again and checked her watch _3:00pm. Hurry up Chuck._

* * *

><p>"Sam, hold on, I want to talk to you." Sarah stopped her right after they had cleaned up breakfast. The kitchen had been such an unrecognisable mess; she had enlisted all of them to help her. She grinded her teeth, remembering Emma looking at her with a dead serious face, <em>"Mom, I hope you know pancakes batter should not be on Eddie's water bow; I mean seriously Mom."<em>

"Oh Mom, I'm sorry, I really didn't hear you ask me to watch them. I'm really, really sorry, though."

"What? No, no, not that. I don't mean that." Sarah took a seat at the breakfast counter and patted the chair next to her. Syrup came off on her hand. "Oh ew. Um, come sit Sam." She wiped her hand on her pants; they were already far beyond clean. Sam took the seat.

"I'm not mad about you drinking last night-"

"Oh yeah, and what about Dad?" Oh great, she was already set on being disagreeable with her. Sam sat back in her chair and avoided her gaze.

"Your Dad…" Sarah searched for words. "Your Dad's mad because he told you not to, you said you wouldn't, and you did anyway." Sam shifted her glance to her hands. "He's hurt."

"Well, I couldn't have exactly told him that I wanted to try beer." She scoffed. Sarah was slightly taken aback.

"You planned to drink?"

"Well no… everyone else was, my friends were and… they convinced me a sip wouldn't hurt.. **Which it didn't.**" Sam added emphatically. Then she squirmed in her chair. "They said he'd never know."

"He's less mad about the alcohol than he is about losing some control. He used to do everything for you and know what you did 24/7. He's scared of what alcohol, drugs, and whatever could do to you."

"He scared I'll become an alcoholic junkie?

"Yep," Sarah chuckled. "Y'know, I had my first taste of beer when I was 13. Don't tell your father," she added quickly. She really didn't need a reprimanding from Chuck.

"Sure. He's a really stickler for rules, Dad."

"Yeah I think he's the only guy in Los Angeles, who waited 'till he was of legal age before he drank."

"Sounds like Dad," Sam said warmly.

* * *

><p>The loud trill of her cell phone woke her up. She must have dozed off in the warm sun. She sat for a few seconds, gathering her surroundings. Slipping her hand into her pants pocket, she pulled out the annoying device. <em>Ellie. Checking we're on for game night. Like always. <em>Ellie Woodcomb was a very predictable woman.

"Hey Ellie! And yes, before you ask, we will be there, on time, and on schedule."

"Sarah…" _Why's Ellie sound so worried? Like we'd forget the game. Again._

"We're bringing Cranium*! Silly kids lost a lot of the acces-"

"**Sarah!**" She heard desperation in Ellie's voice this time. 'Sarah, I just-just called Chuck and- and he was fine, but then-then he dropped the phone or something and-and he was yelling at someone!" Sarah sat up in her chair. "I didn't know what-what was-" Sarah's heartbeat was doing triple time as Ellie stuttered through the words.

"Ellie stop! Back up! I have no idea what you're trying to tell me!" Her voice was calm but firm. Having been through many emergency situations, she knew she had to stay calm; her heart was anything but. Ellie took a shaky breath on the other line.

"I called Chuck to check about game night. He answered, and he was fine, but then something happened, he dropped the phone. I think he was attacked." Sarah was already in the house and starting up her laptop, when Ellie finished.

"Chuck always wears the Goveneror, it has a tracking device. I gonna get his coordinates-"

"Highway! He's on the highway!" Ellie shouts through the line. Sarah pauses, her mind overworking.

"Wait, wait, Ellie he talked to you after he was attacked?" She clenched her fists in frustration. The computer was taking too long to acquire his coordinates. _HURRY UP YOU GODDAMN-_

"Yes, yes, he picked- he picked up the phone again- and he said…" Ellie hesitated.

"ELLIE COME ON" Sarah was officially not calm. No Sarah was freaking out. She was hyperventilating and itching to jump into her car and just drive until she found Chuck.

"He said he needed help and that he was d-dying!" She blured out in a sob. Sarah felt like someone sucker-punched her in the gut.

_Beep!_

The computer had the co-ordinates.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

So apparently I like reading reviews. (wink, wink)


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck. Or Spiderman, or Star Wars, or Porsches... did I miss anything?

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><p>Disobeying traffic laws was a skill that came very easily to her. Her knuckles were white, as she held the wheel in a death grip. She could fabricate lanes, and pass five cars on a one way street with her eyes closed. She swerved around an SUV that had stopped at a stop sign. Her mind flooded with profanities directed at the car. She relished in the feeling of anger. Numbness, cold and unfeeling, had washed over her the moment she had revved up the Porsche. She knew her destination, and the twists and turns she made had flowed from her hands, as if they had a mind of their own. Her feelings had been locked away; they would compromise the mission.<p>

She made an illegal right turn, and tried to ignore the blaring car horns, and muffled shouts from the outside world. Daring to take a breath, she floored the car onto the highway. Everything was moving much faster here, and there was more potential for fatal accidents. She winced when she glanced at the speedometer, but knew she had to push it further. _Stay calm and you'll be fine ._She found some grim humour in that. _What does it matter?_ _I'd rather be dead anyway if anything happens to him._ She shook her head and blinked rapidly, clearing her eyes. _Feelings lead to failure. _They had ingrained that into their brains at the farm. But Chuck had proved them wrong, time and time again. _Chuck… please hold on._

* * *

><p>"CLEAR"<p>

_Beep…. Beep… Beep._

He had experienced many unpleasant ways to wake up. To name a few:

A bucket of cold water dumped on his head by his Stanford frat brothers. God bless the tradition of hazing the newbie.

An enourmous grape stinking belch, courtesy of Morgan, as he sat on his bed and played games into the early morning hours.

The unpleasant sound, yes _sound,_ of a dirty diaper being soiled by a one year old Sam, slumbering on his chest.

_Beep… Beep… _

Although he considered those some of the worst, he also had terrifying memories of waking up in the clutches of those who weren't very friendly and they're very unfriendly methods; torture. Chuck often wondered why bad guys always resorted to torture first. Couldn't they at least try talking about it?

_Beep._

But Chuck had just found the one to beat them all. Being brought back from the dead really took the cake in this contest. He'd compare it to pins and needles a hundred times worse, and all over and throughout his body. No wait, it didn't really compare at all_._

_Beep._

His vision was filled with excruciating light, his lungs seared as he took a huge gulp of air, his heart hurt like hell, well, his whole body hurt like hell. His limbs were as heavy as sacks of potatoes, as he instinctively tried to curl up to fight the terrible cold air.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Someone, no several figures leered over him. His blurry vision only saw them as dark shapes as they broke up the blinding light. "I think he's stabilizing," said a muffled voice, echoing from seemingly very far away. _Why is he speaking into a barrel? _Chuck pondered the silliness of someone putting their head in a barrel, and then trying to talk to someone. Of the very confusing situation he was in, the one thing he could focus on was an incredibly irritating beeping noise. It just wouldn't stop.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Would someone please turn that off! _"..turr-ioff.." Chuck groaned. He realized there was a mask on his face. They probably didn't hear him. A wave of exhaustion hit and his eyelids felt heavy. The bright lights soon dissipated.

* * *

><p>The traffic was getting congested. She checked her car's GPS. Only a few more miles. She started grinding her teeth. Chuck hated it when she ground her teeth. She stopped. She maneuvered her way around a large truck and accelerated through a gap between the two lanes, big enough for her car. Her pedal was flush with the floor, whipping past the other cars. The gap narrowed and she had to stop. Sarah banged her fist against her window, her frustration boiling over. <em>WHY IS IT SO F-<em>

The flashing lights of a cop car could be seen over the rows of cars. Her eye's snapped to the GPS. _CHUCK! _The dot on the GPS indicated that Chuck was meters, not miles away. Her threw her seatbelt over her shoulder and opened her car door in the same second. The door smashed into the car on her left. She didn't care.

Sarah ran. She ran faster than she had in years. She ran without looking, her eyes fixated on the flashing blue and red lights. Her gun chaffed her back, where it was tucked into her pants. She ran for Chuck.

She weaved past the last car, and surveyed the situation. There were three cop cars at the scene and two_ ambulances, _she thought with dread. A group ofparamedics were clustered together on the ground, while more of them loaded a large man into the back of one of the ambulances. Her hand slipped off of the gun handle at her back. It didn't look like she was going to have to fight. She desperately craned her neck for a look at what paramedics were doing on the ground.

"Hey, Ma'am get back in your car!" She shot a glance at the officer who rushed forward. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to drop him. That's when she saw their family car. _Chuck's car. _ Her stomach lurched.

"Ch-chuck, no." she gasped and stumbled forward. The police officer grabbed her arms. The instability of her own voice shocked her. She tried to break the officer's grip. _Stop acting so wimp, _she chided herself

"There's been a traffic accident, nothing else to see. Return to your vehicle." He said forcibly.

Sarah tried to catch her breath. "He's my husband."

"Wha-" he started. Throwing his hands off, she made a sprint for the paramedics. _No, no, no. _She already knew her fears to be true. She saw his hair then his face- _oh god!_

Chuck was lying just outside the driver's side of their car. His face limp, eyes closed. He had an oxygen mask on, but she didn't miss the trickle of blood coming from his mouth. The paramedics had opened his shirt and attached wires to his chest. She felt another jolt of fear at the large bruise on his stomach. One of the paramedics kneeled over him with a pair of paddles. She wanted to vomit.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

She sought the source of the noise. It was coming from a portable monitor, attached to the wires on his chest. Looking at Chuck's heartbeat brought a small level of comfort. _He hasn't left me._ She closed the distance between her and Chuck. They were transferring him onto a stretcher.

"Did you find any I.D.?" Another officer asked the paramedic who was securing a strap across Chuck's torso.

"His name's Chuck Bartowski, he's 47." Sarah answered. They both jumped; they had been unaware of her presence. She reached her hand out for his and gripped it tightly. He was cold.

"Who-"

"How-"

"I'm his wife! He was on the phone with his sister, when, well, whatever happened, happened, so she called me, and I drove here." She tried to explain in a rush; she really wanted them to stop looking at here like she was some crazy woman.

The officer looked puzzled. She reached into her back pocket , withdrew her wallet and chucked it at him. "Here! Take it, verify who I am!" She snapped at him. Her glare shifted to the paramedic. "STOP STARING AT ME AND GET HIM TO THE HOSPITAL, GOD DAMN IT!" She quickly wiped the tear streaks off her face.

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><p>"Sir, I completely understand you. <strong>Come- pletly<strong>. Unfortunately, as I've already said, I cannot refund your purchase because it was a _sale_ item, the important word to take note of, _sale, _item, so yeaah…" The irate customer's face turned a shade of purple, and his jowls quivered. Morgan winced, preparing for the shout.

"I SPENT TWO GRAND ON THIS POPCORN MACHINE! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO DO ONE THING! MAKE POPCORN! IT WORKS FOR SHIT!" Gobs of saliva clung to Morgan's greying beard, as the rotund man bust his blood vessels. "I AM A LAWYER, I HELP PEOPLE FOR LIVING! I MAKE THEM HAPPY! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO DO THE SAME?" Morgan was getting confused. "I PAY MY TAXES, I WORK FIVE DAYS A WEEK! ALL I ASK FOR IN RETURN IS A POPCORN MACHINE!" Well now he was just listing off things he does. "YOU ARE DIRT. YOU ARE SCUM. YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF RESP-"

Nope. Morgan was not taking this. Running a hand down his tie, Morgan stood tall (figuratively). "Sir, remove your popcorn maker from my sight and get out of my store, or I'm calling the cops." He pointed towards the entrance. The man stared down at him, daring him. Morgan made a show of reaching his hand over to the phone, and picking up the receiver. The man continued to stare at him, calling his bluff. But it was no bluff. Morgan extended his other arm above his head and slowly lowered it, his pointer finger coming to rest on the nine. He pressed it. _9. "_Don't make me do it man. You and I both know the cops have better uses for their time." The larger man huffed loudly, and crossed his arms. _9. _Quickly grabbing his popcorn maker, the customer turned away from the service desk, and stormed towards the entrance. "Yeah, good riddance!" Morgan added. He quickly put the receiver down, with a sigh of relief_._ "And don't come back to Buy More ever again! You're banned Jabba, from this one and every other Buy More in the greater Los Angeles area!" The man disappeared though the sliding doors, and into the bright California sun. The cowering Buy Morons and Nerd Herders peered out from their hiding spots. They broke out in applause.

"Yes, yes. I'm no hero, it's just my day job. " Morgan waved them off as they patted him on the back. "Okay, get back to work."

It had been a long day for the Los Angeles and Surrounding Area Buy More Traveling Supervisor. He had started the morning at the south most location to fire a belligerent employee. The store manager had refused to do it, so they had to call in the big dog (figuratively). After that, he had driven across town to dole out corporate bonuses at California's most successful location: Burbank. It had caught a bit of fame after people found out that a certain two famous German rock stars had started out there. Jeff and Lester going on tour had been the best thing that had happened to that place in a long time. Morgan closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the cool counter. While he was being force fed a subway foot-long by Big Mike, he'd gotten the call that a man was refusing to leave a prime Buy More east location, claiming his popcorn maker always burnt his popcorn. After having to take a detour from his regular route, the highway traffic had been insane, he had arrived to deal with the violently spitting man.

His phone vibrated on his belt. _Oh man, I was sooo ready to go home._ The classic Spiderman cartoon theme starts playing.

_Spiderman! Spiderman! Does whatever a spider ca-_

"L.A.S.A. Buy More. Traveling Supervisor Morgan Grimes, at you service." He put on a cheery voice.

"Morgan…" Alex starts.

He was so relieved. "Oh sweetie, if I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have had to say that mouthful. When am I gonna learn to look at the call display, eh?" Morgan chuckles.

"Morgan I just got a weird call from Ellie."

Morgan takes a pause. _Ellie? _He hadn't spoken to Ellie since Stephen and Emma's Star Wars birthday bash. Man that was great. He was so proud of Chuck raising them to love Star Wars as much as they did. He hadn't been able to get his Melissa to take to it yet; maybe seven was young, but he wanted to integrate nerd at an early age. And John, their eleven year old was set on not being a nerd. He was disturbingly similar to his grandfather, although he did have Morgan's sense of humour.

"Oh? What's going on with El?"

Alex hesitated. "Well… um… she asked me to head over to Chuck and Sarah's. Said the kids were alone, and… she'd get back to us when she had a chance. I just picked up John and Melly from school and I'm on my why there now."

"Who-ho hold the phone." Morgan resisted the urge make a joke his about his choice of words. "Chuck and Sarah would never up and leave the kids alone. What did Ellie.. I mean did she say something, anything else?"

She was silent for longer than he was comfortable with. "Alex?"

"She was…"

Morgan switched the phone to his left hand and ran his right hand through his hair. His stomach started turning with angst, "was what?"

"She was brief. Sounded like she was in a hurry."

He didn't like the way Alex said that. "Kay, I need to figure out what's going on. I'll get a hold of m'boy Chuck and call you back. Love you."

"You too."

"Bye." Morgan dropped his hand to his side, his phone dangling loosely from his fingers. They'd never done anything like this before, they were the most protective parents he knew; well, other than Casey. He brought his phone back up to his face. He held down "C", speed-dialing Chuck. The screen flashed "Calling John Casey".

"No, no!" He hit the disconnect button. _Yeesh, wouldn't want to call Sugar Bear without a good reason,_ he thought, shaking his scruffy haired head. He had forgotten that he he'd switched Chuck's number to the 1 key last night, as in #1 best friend. He should've remembered, he had spent the hour before bed explaining his reorganized speed-dial layout to Alex.

He successfully called Chuck on his second try. It rang once, and then went to voicemail. Morgan huffed in frustration as he listened to Chuck ad lib a song to the tune of The Imperial March. "_Hey. This. Is Chuck. I missed your caaaall. Sorry. I missed your CAAALLL! I'LL. CALL. YA BACK! As soon as I caaaan. As soon as I-" _ Morgan disconnected. Chuck never declines his call. _What is going on?_ Where was his boy Chuck? Maybe Sarah could tell him. He held down "S", and put the phone to his ear. He couldn't fight the feeling that no one would greet him on the other line.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

I'm changing the rating to T. I didn't expect to have this much swearing. But come on, his popcorn machine didn't work; if that's not a good reason to swear, well I don't want to know what is.

JR Lai


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck. Do you get the message yet?

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><p><em>Beep.<em>

The paramedic kept snatching glances at her. She really wanted to smash his nose into his brain. The ambulance hit a bump in the road, and she lurched forward, her hand snatching onto the handle on the stretcher, her other hand clutching Chuck's, like it was her lifeline. She hated this. The pervy paramedic; the hard bench she was sitting on; the non-existent leg room, her knees jammed up against Chuck's stretcher; the incredibly jarring car ride-

_Beep._

And _that._ The constant beep of the heart monitor, a reminder that she was on her way to West Side Medical Center with Chuck, unconscious and bloody. She looked up, about to question the paramedic about Chuck's status. Her mouth slammed shut and a scowl formed on her face. He was ogling her. It's not like what she was wearing was revealing or anything, but it was form fitting. Obviously she hadn't taken the time to change from the simple tank top she had been wearing at home, before jumping in the car to find out if her husband was still alive.

_Beep. _

Her phone starts trilling. People chose to call her at the most inopportune times. She shoots a murderous glare at Pervy the Paramedic, and returns to her phone. It was Morgan. How was she supposed to explain why she was in the back of an ambulance with Chuck, if she didn't know? She just couldn't deal with him right now. It would be easier to not tell him anything until she could tell him the full story. Despite her reasoning, it was still hard to drown the guilty feeling she got as she clicked "Ignore". Morgan deserved to know how Chuck was, just as much as she or Ellie did.

_Beep._

* * *

><p>"Hey Babe! We`re back from our run." The door shut loudly behind Devon and Ann. Devon clapped a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Let's do our stretches kiddo." he and his 15 year old started their post-run stretches, extending and flexing their limbs on the living room furniture.<p>

Devon stood up straight and cracked his neck. "I'm gonna make a c-booster smoothie. You in?"

"Definitely." Ann slapped Devon a high-five.

"With some protein powder?"

"Awesome." She confirmed.

"Awesome." He affirmed. He made his way to the kitchen. Crouching by the cabinet, he pulled out his top of the line Super Ninja Deluxe blender. Only the most awesome of products for his family. He riffled though the fridge, grabbing a basket of strawberries, cantaloupe cubes, two bananas and some carrots. He kicked the door closed, his hands full of vitamins.

After dumping everything in the blender, Devon threw in a tablespoon of protein powder to top it off, and started it up. The food quickly turned to liquid before his enthusiastic eyes.

"This is going to be awesome!" He declared loudly to no one in particular.

* * *

><p>Ellie jerked in shock at the suddenly loud grinding of Devon's blender. It brought her back to her senses. She had just received a text from Sarah, and for a second, all that had existed were those tiny black words on her illuminated cell phone screen.<p>

4:10pm Sarah "_Found Chuck. On way to Westside in ambulance."_

Taking a deep breath she fumbled with her phone, trying to type a reply. She didn't know if that was good news or bad.

4:11pm Ellie "_We'll meet you there."_ She desperately wanted to ask Sarah how he was, but feared the response. If Sarah had something good to tell her, she would have.

She had to collect her husband, and get to Westside Medical Center.

After living close to a decade in Chicago, Ellie had decided that ten years had been enough time away from Chuck, and the Woodcombs had relocated back home. Devon was promoted to head of Westside's cardiac program, and she continued to lead neurology research. Seven years later, they were still living in California, a short 20 minute drive from Chuck's. Her daughter Clara was 18 now, studying Biomedical Engineering at UCLA, and her second daughter, Ann was captain of the soccer team, competing with her father in athleticism.

She stood from her bed, swaying slightly, it had been a terrible day and she felt emotionally and physically exhausted. Sighing, she left the comfort of their bedroom to locate the person behind the grinding noise.

Devon was sipping a bright orange drink from a tall glass as he leaned against the counter. His hair was windswept, and his muscles flexed as he lifted the glass to his lips. A thin layer of sweat made him shine in the afternoon sun, which filtered through the blinds. He smacked his lips. "So awesome. Hey babe."

Ellie wrung her hands. _Where do I start?_ "Devon, it's about Chuck - um, we need to go-"

"Whoa, sorry, hun, but before we go anywhere, I need to tell you. I got a call from the hospital out on our run. Heart attack patient. Gotta go in and check him out. " He gulped more smoothie. "I know it's game night, so I'll be in and out, fast as I can. Wouldn't want to delay Chuck and Sarah's fun." He smiled.

His eyes appraised her. "You don't look too awesome babe," setting his glass down on the counter, he filled another one. "This boost of C will fix all your woes!" He held out the drink, his grin stretching wider across his face. Ellie didn't respond. She was praying to a higher being that her brother wasn't the patient.

"Babe?"

* * *

><p>Pervy the Paramedic clutched his face, the blood flowing freely through his fingers.<p>

"YOU'RE PHYSGO!" It sounded like someone shoved cotton balls up his nose. Sarah felt overwhelming satisfaction at the sight of his pain.

The paramedics had rushed Chuck into the Emergency department upon arrival, not allowing her to follow. They weren't telling her anything about his condition, and, despite her threats of violence and liberal use of profanity, they, for the most, part ignored her and just told her to be patient. _"I'm sorry Ma'am, you're going to have to wait for the on-call doctor to tell you."_

She had finally relented, taking a chair in the waiting room. Bent forward, head down, her foot tapping a rhythm-less beat, she had barely noticed or cared when someone took the seat beside her.

Then he had started rubbing her back. "Heeeey you, how you doin? Bet you could use a strong shoulder to cry on, with your husband at death's door…" She really had no other choice but to break his nose.

And that's how she found herself, standing over a paramedic, his tears mingling with his blood, as he curled up in a ball on the floor, in the middle of an emergency waiting room.

She pulled back her fist, hoping to land another hit. His eyes went wide and he scrambled humorously around on the floor, before finding his footing. He ran from the room, his tail between his legs. She was actually disappointed that the distraction was gone, because she could really use a punching bag right now.

The room's other occupants were staring at her. _I can't imagine why_. Returning to her seat, her eyes scanned the setting. Why did hospitals have to be so stark and drab? Why did they have to remind all those that entered that this was where people came to die? Families sat, scattered around the room, looking broken and lost, standing, or rather sitting, vigil for a loved one. They sat up straighter every time a doctor passed, wondering if they bore news of death or hope.

She couldn't take it anymore.

A police officer walked passed her and approached the reception desk. He had a notepad and a file folder tucked under his arm.

"-Scuse me, I'm here to take statements from a…" The officer checked his file. "Mr. Chuck Bartowski." Sarah whipped her head around to stare at the officer. "And a… Mr. Michael Garth. They should've just been brought in by ambulance. Do you know their status?"

The receptionist stared at her computer, clicking her mouse. "Mr. Bartowski is in no shape to answer questions…. Mr. Garth, however, should be discharged later today. Room 420. Go through these double doors and take a right. The room you're looking for should be in that corridor." The officer gave his thanks and left.

Sarah sat back and thought about the accident. How was this Garth involved? Was he the other driver? Was he the attacker? If he was a bystander, did he see what happened? Sarah's mind flooded with questions that needed answers.

Well, Mr. Garth was going to get two visitors today.

* * *

><p>To the people who said your life flashed before eyes, before you die… no… no it doesn't. There just wasn't enough time for him to view his life before he had collapsed in excruciating pain. Maybe it was because he hadn't died. Well, Chuck actually had no idea if he was alive, but he hoped he was.<p>

It was very odd, being self-aware in a dream. Was this a dream? Maybe it was all real, and he just had to wake up. Blinked his eyes open, he saw a ceiling. It was his bedroom ceiling. His old bedroom, back at Echo Park. No this is definitely a dream. Or he had traveled through time. He sat up in his bed. The bedroom looked like it had when he was in his thirties, newly wed to Sarah. He saw some of her possessions scattered around.

Chuck was freaked out. He knew he was dreaming, but everything looked so _right_. Footsteps padded down the hall.

The door cracked open.

"Chuck?"

He did a double take. "Sarah?" She looked fifteen or fourteen years younger. Of course he'd never tell her that detail, when he recounted this dream to later. If there was a later.

"Chuck why didn't you tell me?" Déjà vu. This had happened before.

It had taken nearly three years for Sarah to remember herself completely, so there were many times she had looked at Chuck with a smile, a new memory resurfacing in her psyche, never lost, just hidden from sight. But this time… this was different. He will never forget the conversation that followed that question. He could place the date. _September 4, 2014._

"Tell you what?"

He played along. He just felt compelled to. Not forced, but more like he wanted to. He scooted over in the bed to make room for her.

She sat on the edge, her back to him, just like it had been some fifteen years ago. "About… about having kids…" She gaze falls to the floor. The words flow from him like water; the words, pauses and hesitations he had taken.

"I… What was I…" He places a hand on her arm. "I wanted us to make that decision together, like we did the first time." She looks him in the eyes, the first time since entering the room. "You deserve to feel what you feel, not what you're supposed to feel." He brushes a stray tear from her cheek with his thum.

Sarah smiles at him and whispers, "thank you".

He runs his hand down her arm after they pull away from a hug.

"What made you remember?" There were always triggers to her memories, sometimes it had been as unimportant as a piece of toast, reminding her of a Sunday morning they had shared.

She starts playing with a strand of hair. A goofy grin forms on her face.

"Sarah?" Although he knows what she's going to say next, he can't wait for the words to come out of her mouth.

"I'm pregnant." She looked so happy. Genuinely happy. Chuck takes her face in his hands and kisses her. "Sorry I made us wait three years." He loved that she had said "us".

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><p>Author's Note:<p>

I appreciate all and any feedback.

And to **thekiller00**, I think you know what Sarah's gonna do next.

JR


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck.

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><p>Morgan pulled out of the Buy More parking lot, his hands fiddling with the radio. He didn't know if he should take Highway 5 east. It had been incredibly slow during his earlier travels.<p>

He sighed, feeling sick to his stomach. Still having no idea what was happening. After the first ignored call, every following call he had placed to Chuck had gone straight to voicemail. Having given up on Sarah after the first try, he had been debating whether to drive to the Woodcomb's, or to Chuck and Sarah's.

The local news station crackled through the car speakers.

"_-rafic news. Try to avoid Highway 5, where a minor accident between a pickup truck and minivan is slowing the drive time. Officials on the scene say that a 47 and a 34 year old, both males, were taken to hospital. Now onto weather, Terry?" _

It was sunny, it was always sunny; he turned it off.

His mind was spinning. _47 year old? Mini-van? No, don't jump to conclusions, Morgan. It's just a coincidence. Don't jump to conclusions; _he silenced himself with a deep breath.

Too late.

The forest green Toyota hatchback plastered with a big yellow "BM" pulled an extreme U-turn in front of many distressed drivers. The sound of screeching tires made him wince. Disobeying traffic laws was very hard for Morgan.

"I'm sorry! SO SORRY!" Morgan waved his free hand frantically and looked around at the cars swerving to avoid him. His grip on the wheel tightened. "It was very necessary!"

Westside Medical Center was in the opposite direction.

* * *

><p>"Hauf! You're incompetent! Why did you send a monkey to get him?" Radner Hauf struggled to pull together a proper response. He would readily agree, the thug he had hired had a rock for a brain, but he also thought Bartowski would have been easy prey. It was a simple kidnapping job.<p>

"His services, they vere.. eeh.. cheap?" He grunted in broken English. Wrong answer.

_BAM_

Hauf let out a roar of pain, and collapsed to the ground clutching his foot,

"You were hired to bring him to me! YOU WERE NOT HIRED TO HIRE PEOPLE!" His employer took a breath. "Bring him to me, no mistakes this time."

"HOW YOU VANT ME TO DO DAT, VIT A HOLE IN ME FOOT?"

_BAM_

His shriek tore through the air.

"Guess you have to do it with two holes now." A pause. "Oh, and I hope you cleaned up any evidence that was _lying around."_

Hauf rasped. "It's alveady-" Pant. "-been dealt vith… bastard."

"Watch your words, Hauf." The gun was shaken in his face. "Wouldn't want to make it three."

* * *

><p>Even though the seconds were passing like hours for her, she recognized that it'd not been long since the officer left, when he reemerged from the emergency ward. He made a beeline towards the receptionist. Sarah strained her ears.<p>

"Mr. Garth was asleep, so I'll come back another day." Before the receptionist could respond, he turned his back on her. Pulling his cap low on his head, he swiftly exited the waiting room.

Sarah stood quickly, starting towards the ward. She had no hesitations about interrupting Garth's beauty sleep. She would enjoy it.

The crackling of a speaker stopped her war path.

"_Code Blue. Emergency Department. Room 420. Code Blue. Emergency Department. Room 420."_

There was a flurry of movement as the doctors and nurses in the room hurried through the doors.

_What? But I haven't touched him yet._

"Sarah!" There was a flash of dark hair before the wind was knocked from her lungs. Ellie clutched her in a vice-like grip, restricting any recoverable airflow. Ellie's tears wet her shoulder, where she had buried her head.

Sarah wheezed, "Ellie!"

"Oh sorry," she sobbed, loosening her grip. She gives her a watery smile. Sarah tried to return it, but had a feeling she failed miserably. Ellie guides her to a seat. They were silent, taking comfort in each other's presence.

She and Ellie had formed a sisterly bond over the years. It had delighted both of them when they reunited in person, seven years ago. The long phone calls they had shared when Ellie lived in Chicago hadn't done justice to their friendship.

Sarah starts, "I haven't been told any-"

Ellie speaks in a hushed tone, but loud enough to stop her. "He had a heart attack… I'm so sorry Sarah."

Her breath catches in her throat and she can't find the words to reply. Ellie clasps her hands.

"Devon was called in to consult. That's what he's doing now… He should be out-"

"NO. Chuck was attacked. But not by a… a… not a _heart attack_!" The words burned her tongue. It was much easier to comprehend Chuck being beaten up, but a heart attack? That meant something was wrong with him. "You said it yourself! While he was on the phone, he was attack!" Ellie looked guilty.

"Sarah, I.. I don't know what happened… All I know is that Devon was called in to treat a heart patient, the patient being Chuck…"

Sarah finally succumbed to her emotions. The wall she had been building since Ellie's first phone call crumbled and the tears rapidly came to the surface. Her world became a blur of sad faces and bad news, bleak, cold, and depressing. Only one person could bring the warmth back now, and she had no idea how much longer she'd have to wait to see his happy face.

Her body fell limp in the chair, hands covering her eyes. Ellie gathered her up in her arms.

"We'll know how he is soon enough."

* * *

><p>Another day, another death. He waddled up to reception, a stretcher and empty body bag in tow.<p>

"-Lo' Sherry. I got a call…" Sherry looked up from her computer and nodded her head in acknowledgment.

"Room 420." She replied grimly.

"Thanks, Sher," he muttered back.

* * *

><p>His head felt like someone had given him a swirly. He hadn't been the recipient of many, but he had saved Morgan from more than he could count. Despite his physical symptoms (swurneled, Morgan's word for the post-swirly hangover), he was feeling rather chipper.<p>

Death was incredibly pleasant, assuming he was dead, if all had to do was live out some of his most favorite memories. Yes, he could do this for eternity. Maybe it was purgatory? It just seemed too nice for death. Who knows.

The heart-wrenching shriek of a child tore through his thoughts. _His child. _A parent just knew.

He cracked his eyelids open. This time, he looked upon a ceiling he was more used to. Their master bedroom's ceiling in his house of thirteen years. He looked down, as an all too familiar hand started patting his chest.

"Chuck, go see." Sarah mumbled into his shoulder. He chuckled. How was he supposed to go, if she refused to release him from her grasp. Gently detaching her warm body from his, he heard her groan in disappointment. Make up your mind woman.

His feet touched the floor, his familiar soft and comfy bedroom floor. He blindly located his pair of slippers and wiggled his toes into them. They were a birthday present from Sarah. He remembers fondly, how he had gotten her a blue, fuzzy pair of her own, the following Christmas. She still wore them.

The bedroom door gently latched into place. His newborn son's cries were louder in the hall. At least he didn't have to worry about him waking up his siblings. Both his girls were deep sleepers, and Chuck required a marching band to get them to school every day. He had to make do with Sarah's motherly screaming.

He had the same feeling that he had last time. This had happened before. It wasn't as specific a memory, but he knew that he had already made the steps he now took down the hall. _What a terribly odd existence I am leading._

He peaked into the twin's nursery. Sure enough, Emma was oblivious to her brother's howls. He approached Stephen's crib. His son's face was bright red and scrunched up, tear streaming down his cheeks. He slipped his hands under his chubby arms and lifted him above his head.

"Hey little buddy… hey what's wrong? Are you dirty?" He took a whiff, and was relieved to just smell baby powder. "Nope. Oh…hush now…" He brought him to his chest, his head cradled in the nook of his arm. "You're hungry eh? Let's go get you a bottle…"

He softly padded down the stairs, his son quieting some, enjoying the ride.

He missed this. He missed holding his and Sarah's little creations close to his heart. He loved playing with his kids now, without a doubt, but he still missed this.

The kitchen light switch was found with ease in the dark, having located it so many times before. He shifted the bundle to one arm as he pulled the fridge open.

"Formula, formula, formula, bingo!" He snatched a bottle form the door and shut the fridge. He stuck it in the microwave.

"Now I know it's not as good as when Mommy gives it to you, but there's some things Daddy just can't do." He tickled Stephens tummy and he gurgled happily. "Oh yes there is! Yes there is!"

_Ding!_

"Dinna, ma petit Bartowski, is served!" He flipped the bottle over and placed it in Stephen's mouth; after checking the temperature of course. Stephen fussed and tried to push it away.

"Oh I know, I know. It's not fair that Mommy can do special things with her body parts that Daddy can't, but give it a try Stevie." Stephen relented and took the bottle. He quickly discovered how delicious it was, sucking it greedily. Chuck smiled.

Once he was wiped, and burped, Chuck darkened the kitchen and started upstairs. Stephen's head was lolling with exhaustion and he was soon asleep on his shoulder. Chuck traversed the hall carefully sidestepping the creaks and squeaks he knew lay hidden in the floor.

He edged into the nursery and tip-toed to his son's crib. _Steady… steady… _Gentle as a lamb, Chuck laid him down.

"Now you sleep through the night mister," he whispered, before placing a kiss on his forehead. He closed the nursery door silently, a skill he mastered long ago; although his daughters weren't light sleepers, his wife happened to be a trained ninja assassin who could sleep with her eyes open if she wanted to. Or so she claimed. He wasn't sure whether he believed her.

"_Prove it."_

"_I shouldn't have to."_

"_Well then I don't believe you."_

"_Chuck! Have some faith in me!"_

"_It's not possible."_

"_Yes it is, I've done it."_

He slipped into the still warm bed beside her. Instantly, as if they were oppositely charged magnets, her arms were around him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Everything all right?" Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

He snakes an arm around her shoulders.

"Hmm… It's perfect," he whispers into her hair.

Yes, he could definitely do this for eternity.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Don't get too used to the fast updates. Probably gonna slow down.

JR


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck.

* * *

><p>"Daddy?" The light tugging on his sleeve roused him from his sleep. Chuck groaned. He had the mother of all headaches. The surface underneath him was soft and warm. It smelt like home.<p>

Tugging turned into pulling. "Geddup Daddy!"

The round face of his four year old swam into focus. The living room couch had never been more comfortable, he thought, taking note of where he lay. He summarized it was night time, from the unlit room, and the dark world that lay outside of the bay window.

"Whasisit, Sam?" A memory flashed through his head. He had just put Sam and the twins to bed. Well, he had when this happened the first time. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn't living in reality.

Clearing his head of such confusing thoughts, he brought his attention back to Sam. "Shouldn't you be in bed, rug rat?"

"You're not ansuring door, Daddy." Sam pointed a stubby finger in the direction of the front hall. "When's mummy home?" Chuck looked at his watch. He was at a loss as to who would be at the door at 11:00pm.

"You know your Mom had to work late tonight," he answered, running his hand through her rumpled blond hair. Heaving a sigh, he stood from the couch.

There was a loud thumping on the front door.

"Bartowski! Open up!" Chuck faltered in his tracks.

"Casey?"

"No its Old Saint Nick! Now open the damn door so I can spread some-"

Chuck clasped his hands over his daughter's ears, who had been trailing behind him.

"Hey! Okay Saint Nick! A little one is about!"

Once confident Casey wouldn't explode with more profanity, he unlocked the door. Colonel John Casey stood before him, travel bag in hand, a scowl etched on his face; Chuck had often speculated that he had spent so much of his life scowling, his face was permanently stuck that way, and Casey didn't even know.

"Miss me?" He punched Chuck in the shoulder.

"Not as much as I thought I would," Chuck grumbled, rubbing his wound.

Casey grinned, much to his shock, and then moved past him into the house.

"Of course you can come in, Casey, even though it's the middle of the night, and I haven't seen you in like two years," Chuck mumbled swinging the door closed behind him.

A black overcoat was flung at him, obscuring his vision. After wrestling it off his face, he hung it on the coat hook by the door. Turning back to Casey, he watched the larger man's eyes dart around the hall, and the connecting rooms.

"Walker not home?" he grunted. He set his travel bag down.

"She's working late… How.. how could you tell?" His question hung in the air, unanswered. Casey had left for the living room. Chuck followed, dragging Sam with him, who was clutching to his pant leg.

He had already made himself comfortable, settling into an arm chair; but his eyes gave away his uneasiness, examining every nook and cranny of the spacious room. Chuck took a seat opposite him on the couch. Sam climbed up after him

"Sooo-" Casey's gaze snapped to Chuck.

"You gonna introduce me to your gremlin?" he interrupted.

"Hmm? You know Sam."

"Yeah, but by the looks of it, she doesn't remember me." He gestured to her. It was then that Chuck realized Sam had jammed herself in-between the back of the sofa and himself, eyeing Casey with wary stare. Chuck reached behind his back, extricated her, and relocated her to his lap.

"Sammy, say hello to John Casey. Uncle Casey to you." Casey grunted. Chuck couldn't identify which grunt it was. "Last time he saw you, you were two." His Sam was usually a precocious, talkative little four year old; but perhaps she found something intimidating about Casey, he thought, as she turned away from Casey and latched on to Chuck's t-shirt, burying her head into his chest.

"Guess she's not in a chatty mood," he shrugged. Casey grunted in response.

"If Walker had been home, a gun would have greeted me at the door," he said after a few silent minutes had passed. Chuck pondered that. Sarah would've answered the door at the first knock, and she would've been a lot angrier than Chuck was about having her sleep disturbed. She also had the tendency to bring her gun with her when someone was at the door that they weren't expecting. He decided Casey was right.

"So Casey, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Casey analyzed him, and at the same time, glared at him. "At eleven o'clock at night?" Chuck often wondered how one person could express anger in so many ways.

"I need… I came to ask-" Casey put his head in his hand. "I came to ask a favour." To say Chuck was surprised would be an understatement. He had never seen Casey stumble with his words. And his tone of voice disturbed him. It was the tone of uncertainty. It's didn't suit John Casey. "God, I'm gonna need a drink. You got any grown up drinks, Bartowski, or just Walker juice and apple juice?" Chuck sent Casey a murderous glare.

"It's called breast milk, and yes, there's scotch in that hutch." He indicated towards a hutch in the far corner. Casey grunted and lumbered across the room. He sat down a few minutes later with a full bottle of scotch and two glasses. After he filled both glasses, he handed one to Chuck.

"Oh you're so thoughtful, but I don't like to drink in front of my kids."

"Kid's asleep, Chuck." Indeed she was, he thought, surprised to find Sam fast asleep, still clinging to his shirt.

"Ah well, no harm done" Chuck said, accepting the drink from him. After taking a long sip of his own scotch, Casey stayed silent. "So what favour did you need your old pal Chuck to do _at eleven o'clock at night?_ Seriously, I wanna go to bed."

Casey mumbled something indistinct. If he hadn't seen the larger man's lips move, he would have dismissed it as his mind playing tricks on him. "I'm sorry, didn't catch that."

He took a deep breath and appeared to be fighting with his… _feelings? _Chuck wanted to laugh at the thought, but he decided it would be best for both of them if he didn't disturb Casey's contemplative state. Casey clasped his hands, seeming to have made up his mind.

"Will you be my best man?"

The scotch halfway down his throat came spluttering back up, as Chuck choked out a response. "wha-what?"

Casey growled. "Don't make me say it again Bartowski, or the offer is rescinded."

"But- but last time I saw you and Verbanski , you were both very clear that you never wanted to get married! What's the big change?"

"I proposed on the runway in Siberia. Right before we left for L.A. We just got in about two hours ago. Then I came here."

"Couldn't this have waited until the morning? And where is your lovely fiancé, by the way?"

Casey chuckled. "I came here to win a bet with Gertrude. She doesn't want a wedding, but um, I'm one for tradition. Anyway, we made a deal. If I could _work up the nerve_, as she put it, to ask you to be my best man, then we can have a wedding. She was convinced I couldn't do it. Showed her." Casey was all out grinning now. "Came here straight from the airport. I thought the sooner, the better. Gertrude went to Alex and the Knome's." He sat back in the armchair and crossed his legs. "Hey you got any of those mini pizzas? The ones that go in the microwave?" By the time Chuck had collected his thoughts enough to respond, Casey was halfway to the kitchen

"Um, yeah actually… they're.. they're in the freezer."

He heard the suctioning sound of the freezer door being opened. "FOUND 'EM" Then he heard the whoosh of the door being closed.

Chuck carefully moved Sam to the couch, and made for the kitchen. Casey had helped himself to a beer from the fridge and was collecting cutlery. The room seemed inordinately bright.

"Hey you want one?"

"Um. No thanks." Chuck sat himself at the breakfast counter, and gawked at the cheerful, lady-feelings feeling Casey.

"Suit yourself." He took a swig of his beer

_Beep._ For some reason, Casey ignored the microwave.

"I'd be honoured John." Chuck started. "I'd be-" Casey silenced him by hold up his hand.

"That's all I need to hear. No more mushy gushy."

_Beep._ Casey continued to act like he hadn't heard the microwave.

"So you didn't answer my question. Why are you guys suddenly wanting to get married?"

Casey took a few minutes to answer. "I know it sounds dumb… but I want Johnny to be able to call Gertrude Grandma…" He muttered sheepishly.

"No, that's really sweet…" Chuck lost his train of thought.

The lights suddenly felt much too bright and the room was very warm.

_Beep._

"Casey, your pizza is done."

Casey didn't respond, he seemed to be stunned. The panic was rising in Chuck as Casey started to fade from sight, as the bright white lights started to sear his eyeballs.

_Beep._

Chuck tried to blink out the light, but his eyes suddenly felt incredibly heavy, and as soon as he closed them, he couldn't open them again.

"_Chuck?" _ He knew that voice. It was _her_ voice.

"_Chuck, c'mon open your eyes!" _The sadness in her voice struck him like a stake to the heart. What could he do to help her? She wanted him to open his eyes. How hard could it be.

_Beep. Beep._

It was a lot harder than he expected.

It was astounding how much effort it took to move such tiny body parts. He felt like he had been struggling for hours. Just when he was about to give up, light broke through the darkness and the blurry face of his favorite person hovered over him.

He knew he had returned to reality, and as happy as he was in the dream world, he was happier here, sharing a future with his wife. With Sarah.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Sarah's warm hands cradle his face, and he feels tiny splashes of teardrops on his cheeks. He wants to tell her not to cry, not to worry about him, that he'd be fine. That they'd be fine. His throat feels so dry though, like he'd fallen asleep in a dessert.

"Wa-" He rasps. She understands, and sticks a straw in his mouth. Chuck relishes in the ice cool liquid on his tongue. But he only needs a few sips, just enough to talk.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

It comes out as a whisper, but he knows she can hear him. "Sarah... Don't cry." For some reason, she does the opposite of what he asked. Sarah tears start streaming rapidly down her face and she lowers her head on to his chest. Chuck feels the hospital gown he's in get soaked.

"Nothing could take me away from you," He whispers into her ear.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Beep._

_Beep._

* * *

><p>He turned down a corridor. It was empty. He glances over his shoulder, assuring himself he's not being followed. His fingers fumble with his phone, dialing the phone number he was forced to memorize.<p>

It rings once. Twice.

"Radner Security."

"Chuck Bartowski is awake."

"… Since vhen?"

"Well I've been watching like you asked, mostly cleaning outside of his room. I think his wife was getting annoyed with me 'cause-"

"Idiot! Answer da damn question."

"He- he just woke up, Mr. Hauf. I don't think the nurses even know yet."

"… Fine. Continvue to keep vatch. I'll be in touch." The line went dead.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Casey loves mini pizzas.


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck.

* * *

><p>"His name is Chuck. Bartowski. Okay? Maybe he's listed under Charles Bartowski. Can you please just look it up for me Ma'am?" Leaning his elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of his face, he was begging the receptionist to help him. So much information lay at her finger tips, so easily accessed; why did she insist on tormenting him, holding her power over his head?<p>

She sniffed, and pushed her glasses up her nose. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not at liberty to release that information yet."

"Yet? Yet! So Chuck is here! Oh no no no. Oh man, oh this is bad!" Morgan grabbed his hair and started shaking his head.

"Okay, sir, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but there is a patient in the ICU called Chuck Bartowski-" Morgan fell to his knees, his arms falling limply to his side. His fists were still clenched tight.

"OH WHY GOD, WHY?" He cursed the heavens. "Oh god, I'm hyperventilating!" Putting a hand on his throat, he started trying to take deep breaths. His lungs felt empty. "I NEED! A BAG!" He weezed, as he reached out for the receptionist.

She stared at him over the desk, stunned by his sudden fit.

"Morgan! What are you doing here?" Someone grabbed him under his arm, and pulled him to his feet.

"Ellie?" He coughed, suddenly catching his breath. Straightening himself, he gently brushed her hand away, and looked her up and down. She looked like hell. Her hair was ruffled and some parts were sticking out at odd ends, her clothes had wrinkles and folds that she would usually not be caught dead with, and her eyes were bloodshot, tear stains standing out on her pale face.

"Oh Ellie you look terrible…" She smiled meekly and accepted Morgan's hug. "Hug it out, Ellie. Hug it out," he muttered as he rubbed circles on her back. And then he remembered how angry he was with her.

"Hey whoa, no, wait a sec!" He flung his arms wide, and waited for Ellie to step back. He wasn't going to push her away; he wasn't a monster.

"Wha-what?" She pulled away and looked at his face.

"Aren't you wondering _why _I'm here? Aren't you wondering _how _I found out my _**best friend**_ was in hospital?" The questions he had been bursting to ask came spilling out of his mouth. "Cause it wasn't you! You didn't think I was important enough to share this information with!" Ellie looked speechless; her hands, which she had removed from Morgan early into his rant, were shaking. He tried to ignore them. "You said you'd call Alex back when you knew more. Alex, not me, Chuck's life-long friend! You DIDN'T call her back! WELL GEE! I THINK STANDING IN A HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM IS **MORE, don't you?" **Tears were pooling in Ellie's eye. He hated himself. He really did. But he had to say it. He had to say more.

"Ellie! I found out about a _car crash _on the 5, through my _car radio! _I came here on a god-damn whim, after turning on the radio at the right time!" He shook his finger at her.. "You owe me, at the least, an explanation!" He exhaled loudly.

Ellie bit her lip. "I'm-I'm so sorry Morgan, I should've-" The small man flung himself at Ellie.

"No Ellie, I am so sorry! I'm not mad! I'm just an emotional wreck right now, with work, the kids, and now _Chuck?_ How is one man supposed to deal with all this without his best friend-"

"Morgan-"

"-to help him through it! Could Han Solo do it without Luke? Could Batman do it without his Robin. I'm Batman in this scenario, 'cause Robin couldn't do squat without Batman, so it's really not a question."

"Morgan. Chuck's okay. He's asleep. But you can go in and see him later."

"Wha.." He mouth fell open. "LATER! I'M SEEING HIM NOW!" With that, Morgan took off at a sprint towards the Emergency ward.

* * *

><p>Something, or rather someone was pressing themselves into his left side. There was also a comfortable weight on his shoulder. Inhaling, a flowery, coconut smell filled his nose. The situation was all too familiar and reminded him of home. He woke up like this every morning. If only they could be in their own bed.<p>

Chuck blinked his sleepy eyes open. He didn't remember falling asleep. Sarah had just finished telling him about how she had punched an emergency responder for flirting with her. His gut twisted painfully with jealousy at the thought. He really wanted to punch him too. He also remembered that Ellie had popped in. Sleep must have claimed him soon after that.

Wondering what time it was, Chuck tried to check his watch. Tried. Sarah was pressing his arm into him, sandwiched between their bodies. She clung to him so tightly; he had little movement from it. Her hand twitched atop his gown, clenching, unclenching, and then clenching again, the fabric. Her other hand was buried into his own, the one belonging to his trapped arm. He smiled. Who cared what time it was, he was with Sarah, and he could never have enough time with Sarah. What good would it do to count the minutes. He placed his free hand atop the pretty one on his chest, and it stopped twitching.

Settling into the bed, waiting for sleep to once again claim him, he let his mind wander. A doctor had yet to see him. He knew he had been beaten up, but he also knew something terrible had happened after he had flashed. It had been excruciating. He remembered the exploding pain from his brain, the constricting chest pain. Suffice to say, it hadn't been pleasant. He hoped he'd get some answers from the doctor. Although it was silly of him to expect good answers to his questions from a doctor who had no idea there was a computer in his brain.

_BAM!_

The room's door swung open wide, hitting the wall. Morgan, flustered, _and_ _furious_, stumbled inside. Chuck heard the shouts of the nurses coming from behind him.

"SIR! WHAT ARE YOU-"

"I'M VISITING MY DYING FRIEND! DON'T TRY AND STOP ME!" Morgan swiveled around to confront them. "I MEAN I WILL DROP YOU WITH A-" He made chopping motion with his hand. "HIYAH! IF YOU TRY…" he crumpled, unconscious onto the floor. Chuck had tried to stop Sarah, but she was much too fast for his incapacitated state. She stood over him, confusion clouding her face.

"Morgan? Did I just knock out Morgan?" She looked to Chuck for an explanation.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I-I think he was just coming for a visit, sweetie."

Sarah considered Morgan, lying on the ground, for few more minutes. The nurses were at this point, edging away from the scene.

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, this has happened more than enough times, he should know by now not to surprise me." She closed the door. Placing her hands under his shoulders, she dragged Morgan into a chair.

Chuck wrapped his arm around her as she climbed back into his bed.

"I hate surprises."

_BAM!_

The room's door swung open wide, hitting the wall. Ellie stumbled in, trying to catch her breath. Chuck latched onto Sarah's shoulders, restraining her from knocking out Ellie out of instinct.

Sarah stopped trying to break Chuck's grasp, realizing who it was. "Ellie! What is-"

"Morgan!" She gasped. Chuck pointed at the prone figure in the chair.

"Oh good." She sighed. Chuck considered this a reasonable response. "Did he wake you?"

"No _I _was already awake." He squeezed Sarah's shoulders. "He woke _someone_ though."

"Well that explains that." Ellie gestured to Morgan. "He found out about you, and insisted he had to see you. I told him you were asleep, but he wouldn't stop." She rested her hand on her knees. "He can run _fast!_"

Chuck chuckled and pulled Sarah back down into his arms. She didn't resist, and snuggled back into his side. "He's had lots of practice escaping." Ellie smiled at the couple and turned to leave. Worrying parental thoughts sprang to the forefront of his mind. "Hey Ell- do you think you could check in with Alex and the kids? And maybe tell her where Morgan is spending the night?" Ellie had informed him of Alex's babysitting duties during her last visit.

"Sure, Chuck. Now get some sleep you two." She glanced at Morgan. "Three."

* * *

><p>It was just after nightfall when the van pulled to a stop outside the large house.<p>

The house looked like it was out of a fairy tale. The white picket fence, the bright red door, the perfectly manicured garden and green lawn. He'd hardly describe it as low-key, what he usually found the retired government type holing themselves up in. What a shame it was that he was about to ruin their happy life. He pulled out his gun and clicked the safety off. He heard his idiot minions with him in the car, mirror his movements, readying their own weapons.

"So. My szourse szays that the C.I.A. wifey is vith him. Now I'm done trying to do dis quietly. Ve needs the, how you says it? Leevrage?"

The minion seated in the passenger's side, named Doug, he believed, grunted in response. "Leverage."

"Right, vhatever. Now I think we shoulds only hav to deal with szome midgets."

"And what if they left 'im with one of their government buddies?"

"Dhat's vhy ve hav guns. There's three kids. Two small, vun big. Ve vant all of them. Now les go." Hauf veiled the gun with his jacket and got out of the car. His followers did the same. After checking for nosey neighbors, the armed group trotted up the pathway. He rapped on the bright red door once.

A minute or two passed before it was cracked open. A small child's face looked up at the large bearded man. She called into the house, "Auntie Alex?" She tried to close the door, but Hauf's foot was already in the way. He easily forced the door open, the little girl pushed aside like a mouse.

She screeched in objection. "Hey! What are you-" Hauf roughly grabbed her around the arms and shoved her at Doug.

"Shut it up!" Doug wrapped his arms around her and slapped his hand over her mouth.

Hauf scanned his surroundings. They were in an entry way. Children's shoes littered the floor. He kicked them out of the way. He looked back at Doug. "Tie it up, and put it in tha van!" He directed another minion into the kitchen, and another into the living room. "The rest upstairs vith me."

He was halfway up the stairs, when a woman appeared at the top. He whipped out his gun and pointed at her face.

"Who? How did you-"

He leaped at her, and got a hold on her arm. She shrieked and tried to break his grasp. He threw his weight on top of her, putting his gun at her temple. She stopped squirming.

"Sorry you hads tha misfortune of knowings Bartowski, beautivul."

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

I wouldn't say I'm winging this story, but I tend to change the plot from what I first imagined every time a write a chapter.

Tell me what you think.

J.R.


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Chuck.

* * *

><p>Alex struck up a mantra in her head. <em>Stay calm. Stay calm. <em>It was understandably hard for her to follow her own instructions when the cold steel of a gun nozzle was being forcibly pressed against her temple. The larger man's breath stung her nose with its foul smell as he exhaled into her face. He was grasping one of her wrists and the other was pinned under her; her natural defensive tools were trapped. Thoughts of the kids flashed through mind, the kids she was supposed to be watching, _protecting_. John. Melissa. Sam. Stephen. Emma. She had job to do. Her Dad would be ashamed of her right now. The Coburn blood started pumping in her veins, and a fury burned in her eyes as she stared her attacker in the face.

She didn't need to stay calm. She needed to fight with a fury. She struggled her arm out from under her and sharply elbowed the man in the nose. He reeled backwards letting out a string of words in a foreign language. One could only assume that they were the harshest of profanities.

Alex winced as blood spewing from his nose splattered onto her face. She took advantage of his lapse in focus, and wrenched her hand free of his limp grasp. She swung her arm out and slapped his armed hand onto the floor; the gun went sliding across the hall. She brought her knee up and stuck him on the chin; he fell to the side of her. She rolled away from him and scrambled up. _The gun. _She saw it lying beside the baseboard. Her hand wrapped around the cold steel, and it made her shiver. There were some differences between her and her father. Nonetheless, she was ready when the man stood. He stared the barrel down, eyeing her with apprehension.

"You gonna shoot me?" He chuckled in a thick accent.

"WHO ARE YOU?" Her voice shook and her heart sunk as she saw two other men appear over his shoulder. They were also armed.

"Thlee to one, beativul.. Put it down." He reached into his jacket and pulled out something that shone in the moonlight that was filtering in through the window behind her. It was a knife. "We don't vant a mess."

"There was a kid on the couch!" Another intruder called from the ground floor. _Sam! _Sam had insisted that John and Melissa take her room, and she'd sleep on the pull-out couch, because they were guests. Sam had inherited Chuck's chivalry.

She had to save her. She had to save them..

She blinked once, pausing for a fraction of a second before her finger pulled the trigger three times in quick succession, each shot directed at one of the large figures. No time for guilt. As she dropped to the floor, she tried to ignore the shouts and gunshots that pierced the air in retaliation; the sound of splintering wood and broken glass resonated from the place she just stood.

"NO! DON'T KILL HER! LEEEEEVRAAAGE!" The one with the thick accent roared.

Quickly jumping to her feet, she sprinted around the bend in the hall and threw open the door to Sam's bedroom. John and Melissa were sitting up in the bed clutching the sheets.

"Mommy! What was-" Alex hushed them.

"Get in the closet!" They leapt off the bed, and scrambled into the closet, unquestioningly. "Be very quiet. Lock the door after I close it. Don't come out for anyone. I love you." She placed a kiss on each of their heads, and shut the door. Alex sent a quick thanks to Sam for putting a lock on her closet, being very protective of her wardrobe in fear her mother would throw out the clothes she disapproved of.

She waited a second longer for her children to click the closet door lock into place. She started for the door, but stopped to swipe Sam's cell phone off the dresser and pocket it.

Sprinting back out into the hall, she made her target Stephen and Emma's room. Stephen's head poked out, just as she reached the door.

"Where's Em!"

"Quiet, in the bathroom!"

She grabbed Stephen around the scruff of his shirt and pulled him towards the bathroom.

"Wait! Alex, where's Em!" He struggled to push her off of him. Alex stopped pulling and grabbed him by by the shoulders, staring him in the eyes.

"They have her, I'm sorry, I'm going to get her but you need to be safe fir-" A man stumbled into the wall at the end of hall. He was clutching his right shoulder. A second man with a severe limp appeared behind him.

"GET THE BITCH!"

Alex pulled Stephen into the washroom as a bullet thumped into Stephen and Emma's bedroom door.

"THAT'S A KILL-SHOT! HE SAID NOT TO KILL HER IDIOT!"

"AUNT SHOOT THEM!" Stephen shouted at her. Alex had forgotten about the gun she was still holding.

She took two shots down the hallway, and saw one of the men fall. She slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it, then grabbed a chair from the corner and jammed it against the doorknob.

"Stephen, get in the shower." Alex directed. He quickly obeyed, and Alex pulled the curtain shut on his crouched form.

She took cover behind the sink pedestal and pointed the gun at the door. They were sitting ducks. Pulling Sam's phone out of her pocket, she quickly dialed her father's emergency line. _Pick up, pick up pick up, please Daddy, pick up._

* * *

><p>"A… a heart attack?" Chuck knew those thoughts had crossed his mind as he was lying on the highway in excruciating pain, but now that he was sitting in a warm bed with his wife sitting by his bed-side; well, the scene just didn't seem to fit into Chuck's reality very well. And yet, Devon, very professional in his white coat and clipboard in hand, stood before him declaring he had a heart attack without a doubt.<p>

"But I'm fine. I'm healthy, I.. I…"

"Chuckster, I'm sorry. But you can't argue with the Paramedics report or the follow up tests. Do you… do you remember anything?" Awesome looked, Chuck had a hard time finding the words, awkward? Whatever expression it was, it was still awkwardly awesome. "We don't really know what happened on that highway. Me and Ellie were going to ask you sooner but.." He cast a glance at Sarah. She sat tight lipped and arms crossed, avoiding the Captain's eyes. "Well your lady was a tad protective of you. Wanted you to get your beauty sleep." Awesome rubbed his thigh gingerly and winced. "At all costs." Chuck had a feeling he had missed some altercation.

He glanced over at her. "Just how many people have you assaulted in the last 48 hours?" She shrugged.

"So um, what happened, Chuck?" Awesome asked. Chuck sighed. His head was already hurting thinking about having to drag up the painful memory from the highway. No better time than the present, he tried to convince himself.

"I was on my way home after a meeting. There was a lot of traffic." An image of the rows of red lights swam in his brain. "Car moved into my lane without signaling, moved fast. I braked, but I he was too close so I rear-ended him. Then Ellie called. Where is she, by the way?"

"Went home to change and check on Annie."

"Oh, well tell her to stay and get some rest. She looked like she could use it."

"That would be awesome for her, bro, but afterword she's headed over to yours to check on Alex and the kids."

Chuck sat up in bed. "What! Why? Are they okay?"

"Chill bro! Alex wasn't picking up is all, cell's probably out of juice." Chuck took deep breaths, trying to slow his heart rate. Sarah took his hand.

"What happened next, Chuck."

"Okay, right." He searched his brain for the rest of the story. "Um, right. I was on the phone with Ellie, when the guy left his car. And boy, you guys would have laughed at this dude's getup. It was like a biker store had barfed on him-"

"Chuck, honey, no tangents."

"Right, so I rolled my window down and he punched me." He motioned to his black eye.

Sarah stood. "I'll kill him." She said it with a tone that left no room for arguments. Chuck pondered how to respond.

"Oh that's... so sweet."

Awesome gave him a questioning look, before clearing his throat loudly. "Actually, um… he's already dead."

"What?" She asked sharply.

"Yeah his heart… it a… just stopped. Couldn't revive him. Happened earlier today."

"Oh yeah... I heard there was a code blue in his room over the speakers." Sarah said. Awesome and Chuck both looked at her with confusion.

"How do you know what a code blue is?" Awesome asked.

"How did you know his room number?" Chuck asked at the same time.

Sarah waved them off. "It doesn't matter," she said dismissively. "Continue Chuck."

"Yeah. Um… so he was, um, turning me black and blue, then I flashed, and my brain burned. Like it seriously hurt."

"You flashed?" Awesome interjected. Chuck nodded. "Then your head hurt." Chuck nodded. "Huh." He rubbed his chin. "Continue."

"Okay, so I karatead him and then my chest hurt. I picked up my phone, talked to Ellie, collapsed and that's about it." He summed up. Awesome and Sarah were looking at him, alarmed.

"What?"

"Bro, this is out of my hands. It sounds like something's wrong up there." He tapped his temple.

"With the intersect?"

Sarah took his hand. "We need to call the government."

"Oh no. No, no, no, no. I do not want to deal with the government." Chuck was regretting even mentioning the intersect. The intersect always led to the government. "Sarah, come on! You know what's going to happen, they're going to send the frikken scientist fogey who's all genius and thinks he knows every fikken thing about it. When I'm the one who's had it in my brain for like twenty years! They're going to do a bunch of stupid tests, including _**waterboarding,**_ let's not forget the _**waterboarding!**_" Chuck rested his head in his hands. "Anyways, I don't have head problems, I, apparently, have heart problems, so no. No we are not calling the CIA."

Sarah wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Chuck, we need to find out what's going on. And the government might have resources to do that."

Awesome spoke up. "And it's all connected. They why you describe it, it sounds like the flash caused the heart attack. I mean, you have none of the risk factors for heart disease, Chuckster, but something caused the attack."

Chuck remained silent. He didn't want to answer. But he knew they wouldn't stop until he did.

"I'll think about it."

Awesome nodded in acknowledgement. "You should. Okay, well, I'm gonna go home for the day, I'll see you tomorrow. I think Ellie's gonna call Sarah when she gets to your pad."

"Okay." Sarah answered.

"Take it easy Chuck." He muttered as he closed the door. Chuck leaned back in his bed. His thoughts were swirling around in his mind, and he doubted he get much sleep tonight. He looked at Sarah. She was analyzing his face.

"You okay?" He asked. She nodded, her eyes focusing on her hands.

"We haven't talked about the intersect in so long.." He waited for her to continue. "It's almost like… I had forgotten about it. Like if it didn't affect our lives, it didn't exsist."

"I wish."

"Should've I done more? Should've I taken you to more doctors?" Sarah asked genuinely upset.

"Oh, baby. This isn't anyone's fault. Except for the jackass who punched me." She chuckled and lay down on the bed with him. She started playing with the exposed chest hairs at the neck of his hospital gown. They were like that for several minutes. Surprisingly, sleep did start clouding his mind, and he felt himself start to drift into the dream abyss.

He could still feel Sarah's fingers grazing his chest, when her voice broke through his drowsy fog. "I hope Ellie calls soon. I could do to hear the kid's voices."

"Mmm," Chuck agreed.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Why do such short chapters take me hours to write?


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck

* * *

><p>The overwhelming thunder of the spinning helicopter blades drowned out all other sound. It was a sound Casey was quite familiar with, and usually, it calmed him before duty. Tonight, however, it did nothing to distract him from his building sense of anxiety.<p>

His mind had been focused on one goal, with a mix of anxiety and rage thrown in for the heck of it - that was the extent of the emotions he would entertain in his brain.

The helicopter tossed, shaking him from his head. He tried to refocus on his goal, discarding his psyche of his cursed _emotions. _A growl escaped his lips at the thought of the word.

"SIR?" The pilot yelled, questioningly.

"NOTHING. HOW FAR OUT ARE WE?"

"NOT LONG NOW. YOU'LL HAVE TO POINT THE HOUSE OUT TO ME SOON."

Casey replied in a grunt. A crushing sense of urgency throbbed in his muscles, and threatened to break his focus. The phone call he had received from Alex had torn his heart in half, and it wouldn't be whole until he saw his child and grandchildren.

Alex's call had shaken him to his core, and he couldn't help but replay it in his mind, like he had been doing since receiving it. She had told him in terrified whispers that she was in the Bartowski house, and was trying to protect the children from armed intruders; she told him to hurry with help, and the phone call was dropped.

He shivered at the recollection. Gertrude ran a hand across his back in an effort to comfort him. He remembered her face when he told her what had happened and how quickly she had round up the helicopter and men. What would he have done without her? Probably hop in his Crown Vic and drive until he got there. Not the fastest way.

The pilot shouted over his shoulder. "SIR, I'M OVER THEIR STREET. WHICH HOUSE?"

"JUST A LITTLE FURTHUR AHEAD." Casey rechecked his jumping gear and placed his hand on the door release.

"THAT ONE! RIGHT THERE! WITH THE RED DOOR!"

The helicopter came to a hover, several metres above the ground. A gush of wind hit Casey's body as he threw open the door. The force of the wind made him stagger slightly and he tightened his grip on the hand hold.

_3. 2. 1_… He jumped.

The grey hair whipped away from his head, and buffeted the goatee Gertrude had convinced him to grow a few years ago. The wind was making his eyes sting and they began to water. His grip tightened on the M1911 handgun in his hand, as the ground came close. His descent started to slow until he felt the hard ground under his feet. After bending his knees to absorb the shock, he quickly detached the wire from his back.

His mind was one-track now. Kill the attackers. Save the victims.

He took in the site of the outside of the house. Both Chuck and Sarah's cars were missing, the driveway empty and the red door ominously ajar. Gertrude and two other men dropped onto the ground behind him with a soft thud.

The group of four moved towards the house, weapons aimed at the doorway.

His heart started to beat faster and sweat was beading on his forehead. The house was dark inside, beyond the red door, hidden from the moonlight illuminating the lawn. He desperately wanted to run in and find Alex, but knew he had to play it by the book, and treat this scenario like he would if someone else's daughter was in the house.

With his gun in front he pushed the door open and the moonlight suddenly brightened the entryway, and his eyes desperately started searching for friend and foe alike.

Gertrude quietly directed her mercenaries to search the side rooms. He heard the click of their guns and they soon disappeared from his sight.

Casey continued to search the main floor, shining his flashlight behind furniture and into shadowy corners. The house was underwhelmingly normal. No overturned furniture, no broken glass, no signs of a struggle. It disturbed Casey.

"Casey," Gertrude crackled through the earpiece. "I found a body."

His stomach lurched and his hand shot out to steady himself on a doorframe_. _He beat the feelings of horror down and cleared his throat to speak.

"Who?"

"Adult male. Two gunshot wounds. No one I know."

Casey sucked in a breath, and mentally shook himself for losing his control.

"Main floor is clear. The other two are in the basement. I'll come find you."

He quickly located the stairs, and, in a hurry to find Gertrude, almost missed the droplets of blood that were sprinkled on the landing.

He grunted in disgust, and continued forward, only to stop as the crunch of broken glass underfoot greeted his ears. After searching for the source of the noise, he spotted a shattered picture frame. Casey tried to avoid looking at the bullet shredded picture of Chuck and his children at some happy event in another world. He feared it was causing him _emotions. _He put the picture down on the floor.

His gun leading the way, he turned the hall and saw Gertrude crouching over a prone figure. She stood up as he approached.

"He has no I.D."

"Did you find anything else?"

"Well you probably saw the blood and glass?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Casey grunted in affirmation.

"There was an upturned chair in the bathroom… That's about it." Gertrude placed a hand on his arm. "John, the house is empty. No one's here."

He had failed his mission. He couldn't get here in time to save his daughter, his grandchildren. Here. Chuck and Sarah's house. Where the hell were Chuck and Sarah? What about Morgan? Why wasn't he here to protect his family? What the hell was going on? His emotions overpowered his ability to control them. Fortunately, it was an emotion he was familiar with.

Casey roared loudly and slammed his fist into the wall, breaking through the drywall.

"I'M GONNA KILL 'EM! I'M GOING TO FIND EM AND PUT BULLETS IN THEIR BRAINS! I'M GOING TO CRUSH THEIR DAMN SKULLS-

"John, ssh!"

"WHAT?" Casey flung his arms wide, blood dribbling from his hand splattering onto the floor.

"Did you hear that?"

He strained his ears. The house was silent, save for his heavy breathing. After several seconds, he grew impatient.

"There's nothing-"

Then he heard the barely audible sound she must have.

The muffled sounds of sobbing. He tried to locate the source. Apprehensively, he approached the bedroom to their right. It had, spelled out in wooden letters, the words: Sam's Room. There was a taped sign to the door with hand written, italicized words that read: Stephen and Emma, KEEP OUT.

"Did you clear this room?"

"It was empty, I thought."

Casey slowly pushed the door open. The lights were on, displaying a messy teenage girl's room in all its

He heard another sob resonate, this time louder and coming from the closet. His swung his gun around to land pointing at the closet.

"SHOW YOURSELF!"

The cries abruptly stopped. Casey waited for the door to open. It didn't.

"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!"

Muffled whispers followed his statement. Then he heard something that melted his heart, and made his resolve shatter.

"Grandad? Is that you?"

* * *

><p>Ellie sighed with exhaustion, and rubbed her tired eyes. It had been a terrible day. Of all the scenarios she had imagined seeing her brother in a hospital, cardiac arrest wasn't one of them. It made no sense to her, and being a logical person, she found it incredibly distressing that they didn't know why he had had the attack.<p>

After a trip home to see her daughter, and getting a change of clothes, she was on her way to Chuck and Sarah's to check on how Alex was managing five kids. She knew the real question was, how was she managing the Bartowski twins.

She was slightly anxious about what she would find at Casa Bartowski. Alex hadn't picked up any of her calls or texts and had ignored the landline as well. Had she picked, Ellie wouldn't be driving there, and instead, would be driving back to the hospital to see Chuck.

She bit her lip nervously as she turned onto their street.

A few metres from the house, she started getting an uneasy feeling and her gut told her something was amiss. For one, Alex's car was missing from the driveway, and, to her horror, she saw a bulky, tall man dressed all in black, standing on the lawn, smoking a cigar. He made a wild gesture with his cigar hand, and she realized he was on the phone as his other hand clutched at something by his ear.

She didn't know what to do. Who was this imposing figure? Where was Alex? What about the kids? She couldn't just pull into their driveway with this mystery man standing there. She decided to stop at the side of the curb, hoping desperately that he took no notice of her.

Unfortunately, it's hard to be discreet with a mini-van, and its bright headlights. The man stared at the car for several seconds, then… waved?

He started approaching the car, while continuing his phone conversation. She rolled down her window an inch, straining to see his face. He stepped into her head beams, lighting himself up, his grey hair standing out brightly from his dark attire. And then she knew. It had been several years, and he had only just begun to get grey in his brown hair at the time of his wedding. But one could never forget John Casey's trademark grimace, it had some extra lines, but it was the same.

As he got closer, she caught some of his conversation. His loud conversation.

"-HOW WOULD I KNOW! I GOT HERE 10 MINUTES AGO! I HAVE NO IDEA! AND WHERE'S THE FORENSICS TEAM?"

Ellie felt her stomach jump into her throat. "Forensics?-" Casey held up a finger to silence her.

"WELL GET ON IT!" He hung up with as much force as one could on a phone with a touchscreen. He leaned his head against her car window. "Ellie, what the hell is going on?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the one talking about a forensics team!"

"YEAH BECAUSE THERE'S A DEAD GUY IN THE HOUSE!"

"What!"

"NEVERMIND!" He took a breath. "Why was Alex alone with five kids at Chuck and Sarah's? Where the hell are they? John and Melissa are petrified, and all they can tell us is that Alex was with them and Sam, Stephen, and Emily. Then there were intruders! They're gone Ellie! They took Alex and the Bartowski kids!" He ended his sentence with a thick voice.

Ellie had never heard Casey say so much at one time. And she had definitely never seen him lose control of his mask of steel. But she paid little attention to him, her mind was reeling and her pulse was racing. She didn't think she understood what he was saying.

"…Gone?" She said in a hushed tone, her voice shaking with dread.

"TAKEN! NOW I'LL ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME." He had returned to his previous volume. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON? WHERE ARE CHUCK, SARAH AND MORGAN?"

Ellie's world started to spin, and she felt like she had cotton balls in her ears. _Taken? _She felt the tears start to well up in her eyes, and her hand flew to her chest as she started to hyperventilate. A few of her thoughts flew to Sarah and Chuck, and how she would tell them after what they had been through today.

'Ellie!" Casey grabbed her shoulder and shook her. She regained some of her composure and looked at Casey. She realized he was coming apart at the seams too.

"Chuck… Chuck's in hospital. Had a heart attack after a car accident. Sarah and Morgan are there too."

There was a first for everything, and this was a first for Casey clearly. Shock.

* * *

><p>Hauf switched the hand he had applying pressure to his gunshot wound with a torn piece of fabric from his shirt. He dug into his jacket pocket and took out his phone. The car hit a bump in the road and he released a groan of pain.<p>

"Coulds you be making zis car rides more uncom-fortable?" He hollered at his lackey.

"Y'know you're not the only one who got shot!"

Hauf grunted, tried to ignore him. He put his phone under his chin and went back to digging in his pocket, searching for the scrap of paper with the phone number his employer had given him. After successfully extracting it, he dropped his phone into his lap and dialed the number. He put it on speakerphone as it rang.

"_Hauf, update."_

"Ve got the three kids, and a bonus sitting baby-er." He said with an air of confidence, while looking at the group tied up and gagged in the back seat.

"…_What?"_

"You know, a.. uh a baby-er who, uh, sits in on them."

"…_Who…what are the babies sitting on?" _

His driver burst into laughter, and the car swerved dangerously.

"Shut it, and vatch vhere you are going, idgiot!"

The henchman leaned over and shouted at the phone, "he means a babysitter!"

"Vhatever! We got the three kids andsza woman!"

"_Good, we have control. I hope you were discreet?"_

"Well… ve might 'ave left a dead body behinds."

"WHAT? WHO DID YOU KILL?"

"No! She killed him! But don't worry. Zhere's nothing on him to links him back to us or you. Never been caught before, no crim-inal background. I chooze my men carefully, I like them clean."

His lackey snickered at his last comment.

"VHAT?"

"Nuthin' sir."

Hauf growled at him, and turned back to the conversation.

"So vhere are we taking thems?" His employer gave him address, and Hauf wrote it down on the other side of the scrap of paper.

"_I'll be there when you arrive." _He hung up.

* * *

><p>Morgan was awakened by a loud snore. It was so tremendously loud.<p>

"Ohmigodwhosnoringlikatha?" A mumbled mess of a question fell out of his loose lips. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and refocused his blurry vision. He then tried, in vain, rubbing his hands over his face, in an effort to wake himself up. Suddenly, he noticed his back ached like hell, and that he had been sleeping in a hospital chair. Funny, the last thing he remembered was entering Chuck's room, after that, nothing.

Chuck. He cast a quick glance at his friend, who looked like was slumbering peacefully. How had he known him this long, and not known he snored liked that. He felt the urge to talk to him.

"Hey Chuck," Morgan started, know very well he couldn't hear him. "So when did you start snoring like an old man?"

"That was you, Morgan."

"JESUS!" Morgan's bum literally lifted off the chair for half a second when he jumped in surprise. Sarah was sitting in the corner of the room, looking at her phone. "You scared me!"

"I'm just sitting here."

"Yeah, but you were all creepy about it. About, y'know, the sitting there!"

"Okay then."

"And it couldn't have been me! You can't wake you self with your own snore!"

"You just did."

"No! It's not possible."

"Then you just did the impossible."

"No- … You mean like Tom Cruise?" Sarah looked up from her phone, and studied him with a raised eyebrow. "Y'know like Mission Impossible?"

"Yeah, I get it." Sarah continued to give him an odd look. "So, you're comparing waking yourself up with a loud snore… to Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible?"

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. "Well when you say it like that, you make me sound stupid. You said it first anyways." Silence befell the room as Sarah stared at him.

"Okay then." She returned to her phone.

Morgan let out a sigh and started tapping his fingers on the chair arm. After some minutes had passed, he broke the silence. "How did I fall asleep?"

A funny look came over Sarah's face. "Um… well, after you came in, you just dropped… with um exhaustion… into that chair, and fell asleep."

"Oh." He ruminated on that. He had been wickedly tired. "Makes sense, I guess." Sarah nodded, then fell silent again. He took a moment to look at her. She looked tired, but other than that, calm, although he was certain she was simply masking her emotions. He always had a hard time reading her, unlike Chuck who seemed to have a gift for knowing when she was anxious or upset, or just needed a hug. He always knew the right words to say to her. _Good thing she fell in love with Chuck, not me._

"So how's Chuck?" He asked hesitantly.

She took a moment to answer. "Devon thinks his heart will recover." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked at the ground. "Chuck says he flashed before the attack… Devon thinks that's what caused it."

"He zoomed? How long has it been sine he's done that?"

"Not sure… I told him he should call the CIA doctors."

"Why?"

She sat back in her chair, frustrated. "Because flashes shouldn't cause his heart to stop, Morgan! There's something wrong with the intersect!"

"Even if there is, you know he's not going to agree to see them!" She eyed him with a stare that perturbed him. Chuck would probably know what she was thinking, but he sure as hell didn't. "Sarah?"

"That's why you're going to convince him to go see them."

Morgan didn't like that one bit. "No. No. No. If he doesn't want to go, why should he, he knows more about the intersect than they do."

"How is he supposed to fix his own head?"

"He'll figure it out, he's brilliant, just give him time-"

Sarah stood up with such force, her chair hit the wall. "I DON'T THINK HE HAS TIME!" Morgan cowered slightly as she glowered at him.

"YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED! But I have! He's sick! He's tired _all the time, _he's lost weight, he's anxious and stressed about everything! He can't keep up with me on our jogs! I told him to tell Ellie or see a doctor if he didn't want her to know. He said he was just old! It's been knawing at my head for months, and then this! The intersect isn't just hurting his heart, it's destroying him!" The tears were streaming hard and fast down Sarah's face as she crumpled back in the chair. "Pleas Morgan. I can't lose him."

Morgan brain was reeling with the information she had just dumped on him and he struggled to form a response.

He felt a buzz on his belt and the Spiderman tune started to play. _Oh what now?_

Cringing, he read the caller I.D. and saw the big man's scowling face from a photo snapped of him by surprise.

_John Casey._

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

I love writing Casey and Morgan. I also love your feedback. And just to clarify, his name is Hauf, not Rauf, which I might have accidentally called him in chapter 8, which has now been corrected. Oops.

J.R.


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